


Shut Up, Potter.

by SidneyJane



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Auror Draco Malfoy, Auror Harry Potter, Breakfast, Case Fic, Draco is annoying him, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fraud, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry has a hangover, M/M, Messy Office, Nightlife, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Sarcasm, Scars and tattoos, Statute of Secrecy (Harry Potter), Strippers & Strip Clubs, The Daily Prophet, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes Defence Branch, anguish, injuries, they're partners tho, workaholics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:34:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 50,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26579149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SidneyJane/pseuds/SidneyJane
Summary: Harry and Draco were partnered together after completing their Auror training, their second case together has some... interesting... developments.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 77
Kudos: 317





	1. A Sarcastic Start

**Author's Note:**

> Yo, here's a *little* project I've had on the go for a while now, but only completed during the madness that is COVID-19 (seriously, fuck this year)  
> Hope y'all are keeping safe as hell, and sticking it to a deadly virus.  
> Peace <3

“Shut up, Potter.” Malfoy spat across the office, throwing the casefile at his partner.

Harry rolled his eyes, “I literally didn’t say anything…” he snapped back, “I’m just doing paperwork.” Harry threw the casefile back at Malfoy and carried on doing the paperwork for their last case, working under the thin light of a lamp; the only source of illumination near Harry’s desk.

Malfoy paced their shared office in his aurors robes and crossed his arms angrily as he watched the casefile flop to the floor. He glared at Harry, clenching his teeth. Malfoy strode over to the evidence wall and sighed loudly, obnoxiously.

‘You must be thinking too loud then, prick. I can hear the cogs turning from here’, Draco thought to himself. Harry was still not the shiniest cauldron in the set but somehow, he got results.

“Have you even looked at the latest case?” Draco huffed, running a hand through his loose blonde hair - a tell-tale sign of his stress.

Harry didn’t look up from his work as he shook his head, “If you’d just do your _fair_ share of the paperwork then we could actually get started on this case,” he said through gritted teeth, “but until you decide that paperwork isn’t _beneath_ you, you’ll just have to fucking _wait_.” Harry tried hard not to lose his temper. The scratching sound of his quill maintained throughout the room, not ceasing as he spoke.

They hadn’t been fully qualified Aurors for long, they were still getting used to being the ones making decisions and being responsible for things. They had been partnered together because of their performances during their training, and it was not a decision that they had really become comfortable with yet, even after a few months of working together. Harry, at first, had been so annoyed that they were tied with being the youngest Aurors ever, but now he found it amusing - they were absolutely clueless sometimes, other times, they were an amazing team despite their dislike for each other. Malfoy was clearly taking the situation worse than Harry was, he would often get agitated when Harry seemed to be more in control, calmer than he was. It wasn’t unheard of for Malfoy to have brief moments of what could maybe be described as panic. Luckily for Malfoy, Harry had become unusually responsible and level headed after the war, perhaps he had grown up quickly after all.

Malfoy slumped down into his desk chair and glared at Harry. He shot a cursory glance around the room before sighing loudly once more, “Fine,” he rolled his eyes, and levitated some of the paperwork towards his own desk, “I’ll do this,” he grimaced as the paperwork landed with a dull thud on his desk, “but then we’re looking at this new case.”

Harry smirked to himself, and carried on filling in the forms and things in front of him, “Thank you, Malfoy.” he smiled, his voice light and sarcastic. He could feel rather than see Malfoy glaring at him.

Their office was dingy and cluttered from work. Harry’s desk sat facing the door and the internal windows, looking out over the constantly busy bullpen; Draco’s desk sat under these internal windows, facing Harry’s, meaning that Harry had to look at Malfoy’s ugly mug all day. One of the walls was full of books, casefiles, paperwork, awards, trinkets, and whatnot; the other blank wall was their evidence board - currently full of conjured red string and all the notes they had on the case they were to start. Malfoy, Harry learned, was very visual, he figured things out through sticking them to the board and staring at them for hours on end. This annoyed Harry to no end, as he preferred to have things all over the place until they fit together and provided an answer. It amused Harry, however, when he learned that Malfoy was just as messy as he was: their office was a harmonised chaos of work.

They sat in a busy silence until the paperwork was done. Harry stood up from his desk, shrugging off his thick jacket and hanging it on a coat stand shoved into the corner of the room.

“Coffee?” he asked as he stretched the top of his back, hunching over a desk wasn’t his favourite.

Malfoy grunted in what Harry assumed was a confirmation so he left to get the drinks. The door creaked shut behind him, and Draco savoured being alone for a second.

Malfoy checked the time: it was just after seven in the evening. He groaned and ran his hand across his eyes and then through his hair.

‘Why did I choose such a demanding job?’ He thought, ‘and with Potter, no less.’

He sighed, but looked at the paperwork he had got done. It was some achievement at least. He sauntered over to Potters desk and checked how much he’d got done. Surprise, surprise, he’d finished. Draco saw that Harry had been writing something, the page was strangely blank but with a thin veil of something covering it; it must have been charmed to be undetectable. Draco’s interest was piqued. He looked to the door but couldn’t see Harry. He stealthily lifted the piece of parchment and checked the piece underneath - sure enough there were indents in it, but Malfoy didn’t have time to figure out what he’d been scribbling so secretly.

He heard Harry’s characteristic heavy but quick footsteps and jumped away from Potters desk, focusing instead on the evidence board.

“Oi,” Harry said when he came through the door but Draco ignored him, “Oi, git…” he said louder, “Coffee.” he shoved a chipped mug into Draco's hand and sat on the edge of his own desk.

“Don’t forget to put all the paperwork together and send it off to Robards.” Draco reminded him as he read something on the board.

Harry raised an eyebrow, “ _You_ could do it.” he suggested and took a sip of his drink. The coffee at the ministry was really disgusting, but after a while he imagined you’d get used to it.

Draco sucked his teeth and clenched his jaw, he looked up to the ceiling and put his mug on the desk quite forcefully, “ _Fine_ ” he muttered and picked up the paperwork, ordered it, and put it in the outbox on the wall. It disappeared with a quiet whooshing sound, straight to the records office.

“Wasn’t so hard was it?” Harry said nonchalantly.

Draco glared at him, “Don’t push it scarhead.”

Harry took a deep breath and sipped his coffee. He strolled over to the board and stood next to Malfoy; closer than perhaps they were comfortable with but not really caring.

“So, what's this case then?” he pointed briefly to the board and Draco sighed. It would only be their second case together, their last one - sorting out some unregistered animagi in tandem with the Animagus Registry - had taken forever for the newly qualified duo.

Malfoy picked up the casefile and handed a duplicate to Harry. Harry flicked through it and tucked it under his arm, deciding to read through it later. Draco rolled his eyes as Harry did this, “Just tell me about it Malfoy.” Harry sighed, working with Draco was wearing thin.

“Somebody has been printing and sending fraudulent Hogwarts acceptance letters,” he explained and stepped closer to the board, “Some of the letters were mistakenly sent to young witches and wizards who are already at Hogwarts and so their parents alerted the Ministry. Others were sent to muggles who had no idea what all this was about. We have some of those letters here…” he pointed to another spot on the board where he had tacked two letters, “but they’re yet to be analysed because as usual Auror Anderson is taking forever.”

Harry nodded, wide eyed, “Where have these letters turned up?” he asked. He sipped his coffee, mildly intrigued with the case - he could see why Draco had been so eager to start, it seemed like a paper trail kind of case and he knew how much that would appeal to Malfoy.

“Erm, mainly around London, and a smattering of places further North.” Malfoy replied. He leaned on the edge of his desk and wrapped his hands around his coffee.

Harry raised his eyebrows, “Okay, well where do you want to start?”

“I thought we could begin with talking to the people who received these letters,” Draco explained, “though that will mean that we will have to correspond with muggle auro- erm, police,” he corrected himself, “they’re passing it off as some kind of scam, which isn’t entirely false but we’re obviously a bit more clued up than they are.”

Harry nodded, “We’ll probably have to tackle that tomorrow. We’ve been here all day and it’s been busy and I am exhausted.” he put his empty cup on his desk and picked up his bag, “Is that alright with you?”

Malfoy nodded, though he was still eager to get on with work, “I guess.” He pulled his cloak over him and grabbed his things. Harry had left before Draco had even had a chance to aim a snarky comment his way.


	2. Reconnections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has a hangover as the two begin their investigations... and it takes them somewhere wholly unexpected!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morning all (Yes I know its night time but I work nights... sue me), I'm hoping to post a chapter a day(ish) until its all up - it's already written and edited etc, so it shouldn't be too long until it's completed <3

When Malfoy arrived at the office the next morning, Potter was already slumped behind his desk, doing paperwork of some kind. He checked the time; it was just after eight in the morning. There was a heavy looking box dumped next to his own desk and he eyed it suspiciously.

“Why are you here so early, Potty?” he asked, perhaps a touch of a sneer came through in his voice - he’d not had any coffee yet.

“Shut up, Malfoy.” Harry sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. Draco nodded to himself and slid into his desk chair. Malfoy watched Harry as he replied to some letters or something, he had clearly not had time to have some peace to himself - he’d obviously not shaved for a couple of days so thick stubble graced his jaw, his long dark hair was tied up loosely and there were three cups of coffee, all empty, on his desk. He too had a matching box, though his was empty. A pair of dark grey, knee high, dragon hide boots stood tall next to it. Draco put two and two together and nodded impressively. They looked good.

Harry ran the back of his hand over his jaw and sighed. He dropped his head into his hand and groaned.

Malfoy frowned, “Are you alright?” he asked.

Harry lifted his head up and closed his eyes lazily, “I just ended up being out last night,” he grimaced, “and I may have had a bit too much firewhiskey,” he glanced anxiously at Draco, “I didn’t actually go home, I slept in the office.”

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, “That’s uncharacteristic for you.” he commented, and strode over to the evidence board, looking at some new information that Harry had pinned to it. He glanced at the box, and began to open it quietly. The boots looked heavy, though they had very little weight to them. He scanned them for a label and then saw the characteristic ‘WWWD’ printed on the inside - Weasleys Defence branch.

Harry stood up, somewhat ungraciously, and slouched next to Draco who removed his boots and pulled the new ones on. As he stood back up and tried out the boots, Harry pointed to the new bits that Malfoy had been looking at on the board, “There was a delivery of one of our fraudulent letters to a kid that’s in her second year at Hogwarts last night,” Harry groaned and closed his eyes for a second, “It was in Surrey, I thought we could head there this morning?” he asked.

Malfoy nodded, and picked up his things, “Can I grab a coffee on the way?”

“Yeah, sure,” Harry sat on the edge of his desk, “You’re going to have to side-along me, I honestly don’t know if I can apparate properly today.” a faint smile crept onto his lips and Malfoy sniggered and left the room.

'That’s the last time I go out with Ron and Seamus,’ Harry thought, ‘At least until the weekend…’

He made sure that he had all of the things he needed but his head was swimming. He wasn’t usually so unprofessional but it was one of those nights that couldn’t be avoided - Ron and Hermione had been celebrating their engagement and after everyone else tapped out, the three of them left for some club down Knockturn Alley.

When Malfoy returned, he had two cups of coffee in his hand, “Here you go Potty,” he smirked, “I can’t be working with you if you’re half dead.”

“Oh, shove off Malfoy.” Harry groaned, but took the coffee all the same. He drained the cup in record time and stood, ready to leave.

Malfoy sat at his desk with his feet propped on the surface, pulled out the Daily Prophet and sipped his coffee. The new boots almost shimmered in the right light, and Malfoy knew that it was the magic embedded within them. He raised an eyebrow but didn’t look up from his paper, “Sit down, I’ll drink my coffee and then we’ll go.” he turned the page lazily and took another sip of coffee. He really loved his new boots - they muted footsteps so much that they were virtually undetectable, but were still exceedingly comfortable and warm.

“What? You were so ready to go and get started yesterday.” Harry complained and checked his watch; it  _ was _ still quite early, he guessed.

“Shut up, Potter,” Malfoy sighed, and pulled an apple from his desk drawer, “I see you were in Zabini’s strip club last night?”

Harry raised his eyebrows, “Erm… what now?” he hadn’t realised that there had been reporters there last night.

Malfoy folded the paper and turned it to Harry - sure enough there was Harry, Ron and Seamus at the club down Knockturn Alley. A rather voluptuous stripper had draped herself across Harry, who was completely oblivious to having his photograph taken because Seamus was pouring firewhiskey into his mouth straight from the bottle. Harry wasn’t in full Aurors robes, just his shirt - which was unbuttoned to his navel - and his trousers: at least he wouldn’t get in trouble for being caught in the act in full gear. As the picture moved, the stripper danced racily across Harry, and his mouth overflowed with firewhiskey. Ron could be seen half asleep on a seat next to them, and would wake up to laugh then fall back to sleep again.  **The Salacious life of the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice** , the headline read. Once Harry had got over the shock, it was almost comical.

Harry groaned, “For fucks sake,” Malfoy took a loud bite of the apple and grinned at the article, “and, sweet Merlin, eat your bloody apple quietly.”

“Nope.” Draco popped the ‘P’ and took another bite. The office silenced for a bit then Draco laughed, “ _ Harry Potter, the saviour of our world as we know it, was spotted celebrating with his close friends and fellow famed war heroes, Ronald Bilius Weasley and Seamus Finnigan at the ‘Knockin’ Kneazle’ on the night of the 20th November 2003. It is reported that Mr. Potter had some trouble leaving the establishment, but made it back to the Ministry safely….”  _ Draco read aloud, “who on earth wants to know all of this?” Malfoy shut up when Harry shot him a threatening glance.

After some time, Harry raised his head from the desk and sighed. He and Malfoy looked at each other from their desks and Malfoy nodded - it was time to go.

“Do you have the apparition point coordinates?” Harry asked as he drew himself up in his cloak and picked up his copy of the casefile.

“Yes.” Malfoy said, as he too readied himself to leave. Harry glanced himself in a mirror stashed on the shelf - he looked beyond rough. His skin looked sickly and his eyes were dull and surrounded by dark rings. He untied his hair and combed it roughly with his hands. Malfoy cleared his throat.

“Are you sure?” Harry asked, still sorting his hair in the mirror. He tied it back roughly and sighed. His hair was still a lost cause.

“Salazar,” Malfoy sighed, “Yes. I’m sure I have the coordinates.” he was beginning to get impatient.

“Okay,” Harry muttered, “I just don’t fancy getting splinched.”

“I swear to Merlin, if you don’t shut up, Potter, I  _ will  _ hex you.” Malfoy threatened, and Harry was only half sure that he was teasing.

They reached Surrey with no splinching, to Harry’s relief, but then Harry realized where they were. They were near Little Whinging.

“Why are we  _ here? _ ” Harry asked, looking around self-consciously.

“This is where the last letter was sent to.” Draco rolled his eyes and surveyed the street they had arrived in. It was a fairly normal looking muggle suburb. Draco looked around, unimpressed, Muggles were still odd to him - they lived in such funny houses and had such regulated lives. He glanced around the street and pulled a face as he surveyed the houses - they were all so uniform and bland, very unlike wizarding houses.

“Are you sure?” Harry asked, the curiosity in his voice evident.

“I  _ can _ read, Potter,” Draco sneered, “Come on, we’re looking for number 55.” He began trudging down the street, not wanting to spend more time here than necessary.

Harry, still curious, followed. They soon approached number 55 and Harry took a deep breath - he had a weird feeling around this street for some reason. It reminded him of Privet Drive, though it was just ever so slightly different. Memories of his childhood threatened to surface but he beat them back the best he could.

Malfoy drummed his fingers on his thigh as they waited for someone to answer the door. He tapped out a rhythmic melody absentmindedly.

“Oh god… Malfoy, shut up.” Harry growled through gritted teeth. Malfoy tapped louder.

The door opened and Harry did a double take. A tall, blonde man stood in the door, holding back an energetic dog. If Harry had been in a sounder mind, he would have been certain that it was a young Uncle Vernon that stood in front of him; though the figure in front was lean, strong and looked healthier than Vernon ever had.

When the man opened his mouth to speak, Harry had no doubt that he was, in fact, confronted by Dudley Dursley, “Ah,” he began, still struggling with the dog, “You must be from the…. Erm, yes. Come on in.”

Harry hadn’t seen Dudley since he was younger, “Are you sure this isn’t a muggle family?” he asked Malfoy as they stepped into the hallway of this very typical muggle home. Harry’s eyes instinctively shot to the under stairs’ cupboard, to his relief he saw that all that sat there was the dog’s bed and several leads but no door there to lock anything inside.

“Yeah, the kid is in her second year at Hogwarts, sorted into Hufflepuff… why?” Draco asked under his breath.

Harry considered for a second, he was the same age as Dudley; so how could Dudley have a twelve-year-old? Harry shook his head and Malfoy dropped it. They walked through to the living room, which was warm and inviting, and not at all like the house that they had shared for their childhood. The lively dog settled down, curling up on a bed in front of the fire. Wizarding paraphernalia lay on nearly every available surface: an owl preened itself lazily on the back of the sofa; a chocolate frogs box sat on the mantelpiece ready to be opened, cards from previous endeavours were tacked to the wall - who ever collected them had a very impressive set; a spare Hogwarts trunk sat beneath the window; and a Hufflepuff scarf draped over the back of a chair.

“So, you got a letter last night Mr….?” Malfoy began, taking out his notepad to jot things down.

“Mr Dursley…” Harry’s head shot up - clearly Dudley didn’t recognise him, “My daughter, Daisy, got her acceptance letter but she’s already in her second year you see, so we knew it wasn’t right.” Dudley still spoke slowly, though the brutish tones of his youth had disappeared.

Harry let Dudley finish speaking, then stepped forward, “Dudley, it’s me.” he sighed. Malfoy had been flicking through the casefile while Dudley spoke, checking Hogwarts records and making a few notes here and there; when Harry spoke Malfoy’s head snapped up from the page, looking quizzically at Harry.

Dudley stared at Harry, his eyes wide, and then smiled, “Oh goodness, Harry….” he stretched to shake Harry’s hand, “I didn’t recognise you, sorry about that…” he trailed off and glanced cautiously at Malfoy.

Malfoy raised his eyebrow and took a deep breath, “Well… was there any indication on the envelope or the letter that could tell us where it came from?”

Dudley shook his head, “The only thing that we found unusual was that it wasn’t delivered by an owl, a man - not a postie - pushed it through the letterbox.”

“Right…” Draco made some notes, “Did anything else strike you as odd? The wording of the letter perhaps, or the parchment?” Draco prompted, trying desperately to get some answers from Dudley.

Dudley thought for a minute, and Harry wandered over to the window. On the window sill there was a framed muggle photograph of Dudley and a woman, Harry assumed his wife. She had long dark hair and a wide grin framed beautifully by full, dimpled cheeks. They were both about the same age and had their hands clasped tightly around a knife - they were cutting the cake at their wedding. There was such a genuine happiness radiating from the picture that for just a minute Harry was jealous of his cousin. Harry guessed that they were about twenty in the picture, meaning that he’d had a couple of years of happiness more than Harry.

Draco and Dudley spoke quietly at the other side of the living room while Harry snooped, doing so under the pretence that it was his job, but really he was just curious as to what Dudley had been doing for the last five years. He finished his circuit of the living room and wondered to himself what the rest of the house was like - did his daughter have two bedrooms like he did when he was younger? Or was she not spoiled?

Malfoy cleared his throat, “Well, Mr Dursley, I think we’ve got everything that we need, we’ll be off now,” he looked to Harry, “Right?”

Harry joined Malfoy and glanced nervously at Dudley, “Sure,” he cleared his throat, “though perhaps I can catch you at the office afterward?”

Dudley smiled slightly and nodded his head - seeming to be okay with the fact that Harry had just invited himself to stay a little longer.

Draco agreed and left the room, leaving Harry alone with Dudley for the first time in what felt like forever. Harry heard the front door close, and an awkward silence descended upon the two. They stood, looking rather lame, in the living room of Dudley’s house not really looking at each other or knowing what to say.

“You look good, Dudley.” Harry said after a while.

“Thank you, Harry,” Dudley spoke carefully, “I couldn’t tell it was you with the hair and the stubble, I was always so used to seeing you clean shaven - like on the chocolate frog card.” he smiled at Harry and went to sit down. Harry followed. They sat, side-by-side, on the large plush sofa and it reminded Harry of the few almost good times they had had as kids.

“How do you have a daughter?” Harry asked.

At the mention of his daughter, Dudley smiled wider than Harry had ever seen him smile, “We - erm, Mel and I - adopted her just after we got married. She’s a delight.”

“She’s… a witch?” Harry asked cautiously.

Dudley chuckled nervously, “Yes, yes she is,” he took a shy glance at Harry, “Mel is too.”

Harry’s eyes widened in shock, “Oh wow…” he hadn’t expected that, “How…. How did you guys meet?”

“Purely by chance, but I fell for her fairly quickly. She was a god parent to Daisy - her parents were injured in the war and it left them unable to care for her properly,” he shot a glance at Harry, not wanting to elaborate too much, “so we took her in.”

Harry smiled, genuinely proud that his cousin had overcome the prejudice bestowed upon him by Vernon. The dog stood up from his bed and trotted through into another room. Harry smiled at it, “Your dog reminds me a bit of Ripper.” he chuckled.

Dudley smiled, “He’s actually from the same stock,” he sank back into the chair, “It was a present from Dad before… well, before Mum died.”

Harry looked to Dudley with a start, shock clearly etched onto his face, “What?” As much as he couldn’t forget the years of inhuman cruelty they had afflicted upon him, they were the only blood family that Harry had.

Dudley nodded, and took a deep breath to steady himself, “Mum died, Harry, just after the war had blown over.”

Harry gaped at Dudley in shock, “What? How… how did she die?”

“Cancer,” he took a deep breath, and then Harry felt bad for prying but he felt he had to know, “It was really aggressive, and within just a few months she was….” he took another deep breath and blinked rapidly, clearly holding back tears.

“Oh Dudley, I’m so sorry,” Harry sighed, and put a hand on his cousins shoulder, “I’m so sorry that you had to go through all that.”

Dudley pursed his lips, gathered some strength and sat up, “Thank you,” he cleared his throat, “I’m sorry that I’ve not tried to get in touch,” he said, “I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to or not.”

Harry felt guilty, though he knew he had no reason to, and pulled out his notebook and quill, “This is my address,” he scribbled, “feel free to send me an owl whenever, and we can go out for drinks or something,” he smiled, “I’d love to meet Mel and Daisy.”

Dudley nodded and Harry stood up, “I really should get back to work,” Dudley began to walk him through to the hallway, “but it’s good to see you… Big D.” Harry smirked and Dudley chuckled.

“You too, Harry. Bye for now.” Dudley smiled as Harry left his house, happy that Harry was open to being friendly with him after everything they had gone through.

Harry walked down the road and processed everything as best he could. He felt guilty for not trying to get in touch with the Dursleys after the war, but he knew that he couldn’t spend a moment in Vernon’s presence without losing himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally forgot, but I created a playlist to go with this fic! Check it out here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7zwSW4S80YP35idD1R5Xjg?si=-ViVX7moTbqLyf-7dODJIQ


	3. Frustration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Harry continue their investigations, will going further North provide a breakthrough?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you're enjoying the fic so far! As usual leave some love below <3

When Harry got back to the office, Malfoy sighed and slapped down his notebook onto the desk, “I guess we should ask the muggles to track down the mystery man who posted the letter, and wait for them to get back to us.” He scribbled a quick letter and slid it into the outbox on the wall.

Harry threw his cloak over the back of his chair and sank into it, “Yeah alright.” he opened some memos that were hovering over his desk and sat quietly. There was a noticeable aura of despair and confusion around Potter, and it filled the room with a charged energy; it felt like the room could and would snap with one wrong move. It made Draco uncomfortable, the last time he had experienced something like this was not a pleasant time in his life.

Draco studied Harry as closely as he could and then stood up from his desk chair. He tried his best to not disturb Harry, who was chewing his thumb red raw and not really doing work; he simply stared into nothingness. Malfoy left the room purely to escape the tension.

‘What on earth is that all about?’ He mused to himself as he poured a cup of coffee. Thinking that Harry had perhaps had too much caffeine, he poured him a decaf cup, and then picked up a few doughnuts that were sat on the side.

As he walked back to their shared office, his footsteps being muted by the new boots, he could see through the window that Harry had stood up, and was looking at the evidence board. This made Malfoy hope that the awful tension in the room may have passed.

The walk back to their office, laden with drinks and food, resulted in some unusual glances being cast in Malfoys direction - not that that was anything new, but it agitated nonetheless. He opened the door carefully, and set the doughnuts onto a conjured plate.

“Erm,” he cleared his throat, “I got you a drink,” he passed Potter the decaf coffee and perched on the edge of his own desk, taking care not to sit on the plate, “there’s doughnuts too.” he added quietly.

Harry stood with his arms crossed, the cup of coffee in one hand. He had been pinching the bridge of his nose, Draco could see the red marks, and wondered how to go about enquiring as to what was wrong.

“Why are we even on this case?” Harry groaned, “Surely this is more for the guys down in Ad Reg.” He huffed to no one in particular.

Draco sighed, Potter had a pretty powerful radiating magic about him, and it was in full force today, “Right,” he exclaimed, knowing that he would probably regret what he was about to do, “What on earth has got your wand in a knot?” He picked up a doughnut and inspected it before biting it, trying to mask some of his anxiety, “Be out with it.” he bolstered, mouth full of doughnut.

Harry turned to face him with a sullen look on his face, “Why on earth should I tell you, ferret?”

Malfoy resisted the urge to bite back at him, “Because,” he said through gritted teeth - _ great start Malfoy _ \- “we’re partners, and we have to share this shitty office, and we have to work together. You’re clearly affected by something, so come on, what have I done?” Malfoy found that with every word he became a bit more confident. It would seem that his own argument had resonated with himself - they had to work together so there may be some merit in actually talking to one another rather than baiting each other all the time.

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes, “Not everything is about you Malfoy,” he said and then hesitated, “Look, you’ve got a point but I really can’t be dealing with things now. I feel like shit; I’ve just spoken with Dudley and in all honesty… I want to go home.” He hated how small his voice had become but  _ fuck it, he’s only human. _

Malfoy nodded; he wasn’t really sure what to do so he averted his gaze to the evidence board. He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. He had made the situation terribly awkward, and if he didn’t have work to do, he would have shrunk into his cloak and hidden under the desk. Being genuinely concerned about Potter was something equally new and entertaining.

Harry started to snigger slightly, struggling to keep his amusement in; Draco caught his eye and started to snigger too. They were both amused by Draco’s attempt at being concerned. The two stood there, snickering like teenagers until Harry straightened up.

He ran his fingers through his hair, easing the bobble out, and then sighed, “Right…” he tied his hair back up and cleared his throat, “shall we head out to some of the muggle families that have had these letters? See what they can tell us?”

Draco nodded, and opened the casefile, “Where to, Scarhead, Central London or a little place up North?”

“Just fucking go somewhere, I’m too tired to pick.” Harry sighed, but smiled. and wrapped himself up in his cloak, his hangover well and truly starting to kick in.

Their pursuits in a small town in Yorkshire were fruitless, the muggle family who received one of the letters handed it over with some reluctance to the police, as they didn’t see what was criminal about a prank. Potter and Malfoy sat in a small wizarding pub and felt rather hopeless. The pub was pretty empty, and had none of the ambience of the Leaky Cauldron or the Three Broomsticks but it served its purpose. The fireplace stood barren, and the barman sat slumped on a stool reading some local paper. Draco stared glumly out of a window and Harry looked through the casefile once again. They now had three copies of the letter.

Malfoy left their table and stalked his way over to the bar; Harry did his best to ignore him. He spread the letters out on the table, and cast a magnifying charm over the first. He mused over every small detail, the flourish of the letters, the intensity of the ink, and the parchment. Harry ran his fingers over the letters as Draco came back to the table with two tumblers of Firewhiskey.

Harry raised an eyebrow, “We’re working,” he stated, “It’s against regulations to drink while we’re performing ministerial duties.” he recited. As the smell of the alcohol hit him initially, he grimaced.

Malfoy’s face was blank, “Potter, I don’t give a shit, get it down you.” he said matter-of-factly.

Harry glared at Malfoy, his eyes tired from his hangover, “The sight of alcohol makes me want to punch you in the face even more so than usual… either you drink it or I’ll tip it on the floor.” Harry moved the glass away from him and turned his attention back to the letters. The smell of the potent alcohol made his stomach churn even more, and he tried not to think about his wild escapades from just the night before.

Draco tipped back his drink, but left Harry’s untouched, “Have you seen anything?” He asked, disinterested.

Harry inspected the letters once again, and looked up with a smile, “I think I have, actually.”

A fleeting impression of interest flashed across Draco’s face, only to be replaced with apathy again, “Oh?”

Harry disregarded Malfoy and turned the letters so that Malfoy could read them properly, “We’ve not actually properly looked at them yet… but look -” he pointed at various spots on the pieces of parchment, “they’re identical.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes, “Potter, I know you spent a great deal of your childhood being an arse and so you didn’t have much time to actually look around, but all Hogwarts letters are the same.”

Harry took a deep breath, counting backwards from twenty to stop himself from hexing Draco, “Really look, you pompous twat, and you’ll see that  _ every  _ detail is exactly the same, aside from the name.”

Malfoy glared at Harry for a brief second, and then picked up the letter sent to the northern muggle family and held it up to the light, “The names have been handwritten, but everything else is identically… what? Printed? Duplicated?” he frowned as he mused, a small crease appearing between his eyebrows, and he bit his lip.

“It does look suspicious,” Harry commented, “and they’re all like that.”

Draco nodded, and stood up. Harry followed, and they left the small pub. They emerged into a quiet village and walked to the nearest apparition point. Harry held his arm out, as an invitation for Draco to take it. He rolled his eyes and Harry extended his arm further, silently communicating that he wasn’t letting Draco apparate on his own.

Back at the office, Auror Anderson was waiting for them in the bullpen. Draco rolled his eyes when he saw him loitering. Harry chuckled at Draco's reaction - Anderson was truly boring sometimes.

“Right, fellas, I’ve looked over the letters, and I’ve-”

“Let us actually unlock the door first, Auror Anderson,” Draco cut him off, “then talk.”

Anderson, used to Malfoys curtness, nodded his head and followed them into the office. Harry sat at his desk again, and Draco leaned against the edge of his own, still narrowly missing the plate of doughnuts.

“I’ve found that the letters are identical duplicates of a Hogwarts letter sent out under Dumbledore in the 70s.”

Harry frowned, “What do you mean?” He looked to Malfoy, “Aren’t all the letters the same anyway?”

Draco shrugged, a gesture that Harry thought must have taken him a lot of effort considering he had confidently stated earlier that all the letters were indeed the same.

Anderson chimed in, “They’re not. Usually what happens is that under a new Head teacher, a new letter is written to better fit their time as head, the letters are changed as often as the head sees fit. Dumbledore's last type is the same as the one you two will have received with the same wording, but still hand written by his quill. McGonagall's is different - hers is obviously written by her quill, and she phrases a few things differently; and makes reference to the current climate.”

“How do you know that this is from the 70s?” Draco asked, turning a doughnut over in his fingers.

“Because the writing is the same and - though it’s been cut out - the original letter had a reference to the First Wizarding War in it,” Anderson explained, “The Ministry has copies of each letter going back as far as we can, so we can tell. I’ve cross checked thoroughly.”

Harry raised his eyebrows; Anderson had done a good job. It certainly explained why he was taking so long, “You said that these were copies? We noticed ourselves that they’re not each handwritten.”

“That’s quite correct, Auror Potter,” Anderson said, “What’s happened is that someone has created a duplicate of the letter and, rather clumsily I might add, taken bits out of it that don’t fit - references to the first war, names, and of course Dumbledore's name.”

“Thank you, Anderson,” Malfoy nodded, “Is that everything?”

Anderson nodded, “Yes, I’ll send my full report to your inbox later on.” with that he trudged out of the office.

Draco chewed his lip and stood up, examining the board. Harry looked up at him from his desk, his head resting in his hand.

“So we’re looking for someone who received an acceptance letter in the 70s, under Dumbledore,” Harry stated, “At least we’ve got something.”

Draco sighed, “Hmmm, maybe.” He shifted his weight to one leg, staring absentmindedly at the board.

“What?” Harry asked, his eyes narrowing, wondering if Malfoy was trying to be difficult, or making things more complex than they needed to be.

“Well, it doesn’t necessarily have to be someone using their  _ own  _ letter,” he looked down at Harry, “It just means that someone got hold of a letter from the 70s and is using it. I have a hunch but I can’t prove anything.”

“Spill,” Harry said, “It’s just me - I don’t care if you don’t have evidence yet.”

Malfoy sighed, “I think that whoever is doing this is perhaps a Squib.”

Harry lifted his head from his hand and stared, open mouthed, at Malfoy, “That would make things a touch difficult,” he protested, “Merlin, why do you think it’s a squib?”

Draco smiled at Harry, gathered the three letters that they had, and laid them on Harry’s desk. He walked around to Potters side of the desk and leant over him, “If you had to copy a text over and over again, what would you do?” he asked, his voice low, “I’m talking of course with the exception of writing lines in detention at school.” he smirked, and pointed to the lines on the letters.

Harry wasn’t used to Malfoy being so close to him, and ignored the way his low voice made him shiver slightly, “I’d use a doubling charm or something… a quick quill perhaps.” He looked up at Malfoy, hoping for an explanation.

“Exactly…” his eyes glinted and there was an infectious aura of excitement around him, “you’d use your  _ wand  _ to create an exact replica of the thing in front of you, or a quick quill to physically write something out. It would produce something identical - indents in the parchment from writing and all.” he explained.

Harry thought for a moment and then understood, “There are no indents on these,” he said, “So they’ve been duplicated by a different means - without magic!” he smiled up at Malfoy.

“Merlin, I thought you were never going to catch on, Potter.” he smirked and stalked back to his desk, tacking the letters onto the board as he went.

“Has the Ministry started their record keeping on Squibs?” Harry asked, knowing that they had never kept records before but had stated that they might begin.

“Of course not,” Malfoy drawled, “That would be too easy for us.”

“I’ll owl McGonagall,” Harry smiled, “She can get us records of students from the 70s - we might have to look through their families and ask a tonne of questions to find Squibs that way.” he added glumly.

Draco nodded, and smiled triumphantly - his hunch might just work out.


	4. Downtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco vents, and the club is full.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wassup wassup, I hope you enjoy this chapter! It was originally two chapters, but honestly, the first part is kinda short so I squished them together <3 
> 
> Leave some love - let me know how you're finding the fic so far! xx

Draco sat in Pansy’s living room, his feet perched on a plush leather footstool, “I really can’t believe that he didn’t just mock me. He’s been in a weird mood all day, Pans.”

She settled a tea tray onto the coffee table and sighed, “You’ve been at my house for,” she checked her watch, “Three hours and you’ve done nothing but talk about Potter,” she sighed, “Are you finished?”

Draco looked at her scowling, “It’s not been that long…” he looked around guiltily, “Has it?”

Pansy shot him a knowing glance and sat down on the settee, draping her legs over Draco’s lap, “If it was anyone else dear, I’d think you fancied them.” she said, matter-of-factly. Blaise looked at Pansy's bookshelf, running his finger along the spines of the books, clearly trying to seem uninterested in Draco's ranting. In truth, he'd got used to it in the dormitories at Hogwarts; Draco's speeches on Potter had dominated the conversation during their time there, more so from fifth year onwards. Blaise, Boyle and Crabbe had been very well versed on Potters movements through the years, they knew just as much about Harry as anyone else… if not more. 

“Pans, I don’t fancy Harry Potter,” he stroked her leg absentmindedly, “We work together and he’s being annoying.”

Pansy nodded, and smiled slyly at Draco, “So if not Potter… do you have your eye on anyone?” She sipped her cup of tea, and watched Malfoys reaction over the top of her teacup. Blaise overheard that they had moved on from Potter bashing and onto romantic entanglements so he joined them, eager to hear some gossip that wasn't about the Saviour. 

Draco looked disgruntled, “I don’t actually,” he made a glum face, “I’ve been too busy with work and everything to actually try and find someone,” he grunted as Blaise flopped down on the sofa next to him, “I don’t think I really want anyone to be honest.”

Pansy rolled her eyes, and Blaise laughed, “Mate you’ve been single for as long as I can remember,” he grinned widely, “You need _something._ ” he raised an eyebrow suggestively and Draco sighed at the suggestion. There had always been tension between them but he could never bring himself to cross the boundary; Blaise was one of his closest friends after all, and he didn't want to risk losing yet another one after so long. 

Draco rolled his eyes and took his feet from the foot stool. Pansy protested as he stood up and straightened his jacket in the mirror over the fireplace, “I think, if you two keep on ganging up on me, I’ll go home.” He looked at them over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow.

Pansy sighed, “Now now, Draco, no need to be so dramatic. We have to leave soon to open the club so you’re more than welcome to come with us,” Blaise left to get ready, “you never know… you might pull.” she winked at him and he huffed.

Despite their teasing, Malfoy decided to join them.

They arrived at the club while it was still clad in darkness. The building, while not so grand, maintained a sophisticated air. Knockturn Alley didn’t have the negative stigma any longer, the Aurors had cleaned it up quite well after the war and now it was home to wizarding nightlife. Bars, clubs, and various restaurants filled up the narrow street, enchanted lights and windows glowed with warm, inviting interiors. The Knockin’ Kneazle stood at the end of the Alley, watching over it all every single night. The whole alley would come alive during the hours between 10pm and 7am, only to be lost in silence during the day. 

It was pleasant to have a dedicated wizarding nightlife spot, as opposed to a nefarious den of dark magic, the whole community (or near enough) had agreed that the change was needed, and after the grand reopening of Knockturn Alley by the Minister, the wizarding economy had seen an unprecedented boost. It had given those who lost their businesses to the war a chance to start up again, and Gringotts had arranged financial support for every single one of them. This space had become a beacon for how things could change, more so than any new statue in the Ministry atrium; that was why it had become one of Draco's favourite places, it was symbolic but also fun as hell. 

Draco, Pansy and Blaise stepped inside the club, preparing to get it ready for the night. The plush red leather booths were empty, awaiting the throngs of drunk wizards that would grace them; the vast mahogany dancefloor was polished to the highest shine possible, and the poles surrounding it were ready for their dancers to occupy them. To Draco, the club before the lights were dimmed looked strange - the red and blue lights really made the atmosphere and without it it was stark. 

Malfoy wondered to himself what the night would have in store.

***

Harry sat nursing a drink in the corner of the Knockin’ Kneazle. It was a busy Friday night; the whole club was absolutely packed with people - a regular occurrence because it was the hottest wizarding spot in this part of London. He wasn’t particularly interested in any of the dancers - male or female - until an intoxicating song began playing. It was powerful, strong, and gave a rush of confidence to Harry. The rhythmic melody lulled him into a cautious and subtle trance, one that made him feel like he was worthy of the world. A blonde dancer strutted out and grasped the pole lightly, swaying his hips and flexing his muscles for the patrons. Harry watched, transfixed, from the corner as the blonde seemed to hypnotise the audience. He was vaguely aware of Blaise and Pansy sat at the bar to his right, and he assumed that they were watching him watch the dancer as he felt their gaze attack his neck.

Draco glided through the dense crowd of people, up to the dancer, and placed a few sickles on the stage with a wink. The elegance and grace that Malfoy handled himself with irritated Harry. Had it been anyone else that moved that way, he would have found it endearing, but on Draco he found it arrogant, self-aggrandising - the result of having an aristocratic upbringing. Harry watched as Draco flashed the dancer a sultry smile and felt a stab of something - anger, perhaps. He took a sip of his drink and cast his gaze down to the floor.

He only looked up when Malfoy cleared his throat, “Well well well, Potter…” he said, and Harry looked at him expecting a vicious comment, “this is the first time I’ve seen you out of your regulation Aurors robes,” he smirked and paused for a moment, as if he was weighing up whether or not to continue, his eyes dragged their way appreciatively over Harry, “I see that your fashion sense isn’t as dire as it used to be.” He gestured to Harry’s sharp suit and nodded in approval.

“Erm… thanks.” He replied. He _was_ wearing his favourite outfit, that was true, and he knew that he looked good. His wild, curly hair was pulled back at the nape of his neck, his stubble was now a short beard, and he wore a dark red, three-piece, velvet suit with a black shirt. His shoulder holster for his wand was firmly fixed underneath and even though he had felt ridiculous with it at first - he happened to now feel naked without it. Draco continued to really look at him and a satisfied smile settled onto his face. Harry tried to not to react to this but he must have done a bad job because Draco turned his head quickly away. Harry smirked.

Draco looked awkwardly around, “Drink?” he asked eventually, though he looked like he was not entirely convinced that it was a good idea.

Harry, shocked that Malfoy was being almost civil, nodded. The intoxicating blonde dancer came to the end of his set, and Harry found his eyes lingering on him. There was something about him that made Harry hot under the collar, maybe it was the smirk with which he held himself, or the blatant sensuality that he performed with. Harry cleared his throat, he realised that he’d been staring, and moved to sit in an empty booth.

Malfoy returned with the drinks - a tray of cocktails and several tumblers of firewhiskey, gin and other alcoholic drinks that looked far too strong for Harry’s taste, “Apparently, Blaise isn’t letting me pay for anything tonight,” the music thudded through the club, “so I took full advantage of his generosity.” he smirked and picked up a bright purple cocktail.

Harry nodded; he didn’t really know what to say. He had never really intended to spend much social time with Malfoy, they were simply partners - forced together because of their performances during their Auror training. They had very little in common, besides years of animosity, and shared very few of the same interests, aside from quidditch - which had usually been something they competed in.

Someone tapped Harry on the shoulder as he thought about how to make social conversation with Draco, and so he turned to face them: it was the blonde dancer. When he approached, Harry became certain that he was part Veela, there was an aura around him that was mesmerising even when he wasn’t dancing.

“Well if it isn’t Harry Potter,” his voice was silken and deep, like the rumbling of water over rocks, “I’m a big fan.” he smiled, his silver eyes glinting in the lights of the club. His french accent sent a shiver down Harry's spine. There was something feline about the way he smiled, like he was capable of being dangerous. Harry liked it immensely. The dancer wound his arm around Harry’s shoulders and held him possessively.

Harry smiled as graciously as he could, “I seem to be at a disadvantage,” he looked up at the blonde, “as you know me... but I don’t know you…?” he angled for his name, and wrapped his arm around the taut waist of the man before him. The Dancer’s skin burned, and seemed to be so fine that it looked like it wasn’t real.

The dancer blushed, “Alexandre.” he replied, and seemed to come across quite shy as Harry turned his full attention to him. Harry could tell that the man was only attracted to him for his fame, but that didn’t stop Harry from being attracted to him. Alexandre dropped his head, gazing coyly toward the floor.

“Alexandre…” Harry repeated, savouring the name on his tongue, and using two fingers to draw the dancers head up to look at him, “Hmm, I like the way that that--” he was cut off by Malfoy, who wrapped his hand around the dancers arm and pushed him away forcefully, sending him tumbling into the crowd, out of Harry’s arms. 

“Back to work Alex,” he hissed, “Or I’ll tell Blaise that you’re breaking the rules again.” he threatened with a menacing glare. 

Alexandre glanced longingly at Harry, and then slumped off towards the backstage door. Harry frowned at Draco, with frustration growing inside him. The glare that Draco directed at Alexandre, however, was intimidating enough that Harry thought twice about calling him out on his behaviour. He restrained himself from firing a scathing comment his way - Alexandre was supposed to be working, and Draco was good friends with the owner. Harry convinced himself to not look into it, he was probably just trying to make sure that Blaise’s employees didn’t cross the line.

Draco watched the people in the club with an amused smile on his face seemingly oblivious to his rudeness only moments earlier, “It never ceases to amaze me at the people who come in here,” he commented, not looking at Harry, still scanning the room, “Oh, look… there’s Weasley and Longbottom.” He pointed to them as they walked in, and beckoned for them to come over.

Harry’s spirits lifted when he saw them, and realised that inviting them over might spur conversation on, though the timing was curious - had Malfoy perhaps invited them? Ron and Neville approached, as did Blaise and Pansy.

Harry stood up, and greeted Ron and Neville with an embrace, clapping them both loudly on their backs as he did. Ron looked a little worse for wear, and Neville seemed to be well on his way to being drunk. Ron grinned widely at Harry and took a seat in the booth. Harry had to guide Neville into a seat, and even then, Neville couldn’t quite balance on his own, he leaned onto Harry’s shoulder for stability and Ron laughed.

Malfoy sat with Blaise and Pansy at the other side of the booth, a clear divide still present between the two houses. Pansy aimed a wicked smile at Harry as she plucked a drink from the tray. Blaise looked across the club, flaunting his ownership; surveying the dancefloor. He sat on the very edge of the booth, clearly ready to interject if anything got out of hand. The stark contrast between the Slytherins and the Gryffindors was evident, but there was a sense of nostalgia to the arrangement.

“So, how’re you doing mate?” Ron asked, taking a drink from the tray. Blaise frowned slightly at him - the drinks had been meant for Draco, but now everyone took them as they wished.

“Yeah, not bad,” Harry replied, and stole a look at Draco, “Work has been a bit shit, but you know, that’s expected.” He took a sip of his drink, grimacing slightly at the taste - this clearly something new that Blaise was trying and it wasn’t palatable.

Malfoy scowled at Harry, “It’s only shit because we’ve been lumped with a case that shouldn’t even be with the Aurors.”

“Yeah, it’s got nothing at all to do with the department’s choice of partner for me, whatsoever.” Harry muttered, barely audible above the loud music, but very clearly dripping with sarcasm.

Draco rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything. Blaise looked between the two with a mischievous smile on his face, “Trouble in paradise, Dray?” his eyes glinted under the club lights.

Draco silenced him with a stern look. Pansy’s expression matched that of Blaise, and Harry picked up on something uncommunicated between the two, like they knew something they shouldn’t - perhaps they teased Draco on a regular basis about ‘paradise’.

Neville looked up at Harry from his leaning post on his shoulder, and smiled sleepily, “I think I should go home, Harry,” he started to chuckle, “I need to sleep this off.”

Blaise looked down at Neville as he said this, “I’m sober,” he stated, “I’ll apparate you home and I’ll come back as quick as I can,” he and Neville stood up, though Blaise supported most of Neville's weight, “Pans, will you take over while I sort him out please?” he asked.

Pansy rolled her eyes, planted a kiss on Draco’s cheek and sauntered through the crowd and sat by the bar to get a better view of the whole club. The lights dimmed, and a slow song began playing. The next dancer took to the stage, and it seemed like most eyes were on her. Ron, Harry and Draco were left at the table, they were among the few who were not interested in watching this dance.

As they came to get used to being sat alone, Malfoys eyes lit up and a satisfied smile erupted onto his face, “Glasses!” he shouted, and gestured with his hands as if he’d found the answer to a complex equation or tricky piece of spell theory.

“What?” Ron shook his head, trying to figure out what the hell Draco was on.

“Fucking glasses,” Draco turned to look at Harry, “You don’t wear glasses anymore… that’s what’s different… I couldn’t put my finger on it.”

Harry frowned, “Malfoy, I’ve not worn glasses in ages,” Ron looked at Harry, clearly amused that it took Draco so long to realise, “I stopped wearing them in like, September.”

Malfoy’s mouth formed an ‘oh’ shape and he looked confused, “I guess I’ve just not looked at you properly.” he shrugged. Ron looked at Malfoy, clearly surveying what he meant - had Draco been checking Harry out? Was that how he had noticed?

Harry cleared his throat, “How’s the shop, Ron?” He asked, breaking Ron’s awkward gaze from Malfoy.

“It’s going really well,” Ron smiled sadly at Harry, “It’s still a bit weird without Fred, but it’s going well.”

Harry nodded, he understood just how hard it had been on George and Ron. Draco nodded, not saying anything, but trying to show Ron that he wasn’t totally a dick.

“Speaking of your brother,” Draco piped up, “Will you let him know that those new silent footfall dragonhide boots that you both created for us Aurors are incredible,” he smiled briefly at Ron, “Under a disillusionment charm without them it’s so obvious where we are if we wear the regulation tread - they’re so damn heavy.” When Draco had started to speak, Harry had taken the glass of gin off the tray and drank it in one, Ron cast him a worried glance but said nothing.

Ron broke out into a big grin, “He’ll be happy to hear that, I am too, to be honest. We initially wanted to smuggle them into Hogwarts - we used them in eighth year, didn’t we Harry? - but surprisingly they didn’t sell that well.”

“Yeah, though there wasn’t much need to sneak around the castle after….” Harry sighed, “Well, after everything.” He shot a glance at Draco who nodded glumly into his glass. Draco hadn’t been there for their eighth year, he had instead chosen to go to a different school, away from everything. It often annoyed Harry that Malfoy hadn’t been there to see the castle repaired through the collective effort that he had led.

“Eighth year was good though; it was as close to normal life that Hogwarts ever got, I think.” Ron reminisced with a nostalgic smile on his face. He clearly addressed Draco.

“Was it really that different?” Draco asked.

Ron nodded, “Oh yeah, it was so different. We all had one common room,” he plucked an olive from a bowl on the tray and popped it into his mouth, “There was only about 15 of us, so they shoved us all together. We - Harry and I - shared a dormitory with a bunch of Ravenclaws. It was so much fun.” He elbowed Harry, who had been staring at his drink, not doing anything.

“Is that where you learned to be such a useless, annoying part, then Potter? Being with all those Ravenclaws?” Malfoy asked, a smirk playing on his lips. Harry wasn’t in the mood; he’d had too much to drink and he wanted to go home. He was tired and worn out, and didn’t want to be reminded of the past - it was far too difficult for him to think about, even these years later.

Harry looked up from his glass, and his glazed eyes met Malfoys, “No, I got that from my Aunt and Uncle….” he spoke quietly, barely audible over the music in the club, which had not died down.

An awkward smile saw its way up to Draco’s lips, “What?” he asked, not entirely sure what Harry had said. He didn’t know what to think.

“Never mind.”

Ron bit his lip, and then turned to Draco, “They put bars on his window-”

Harry interrupted him before he could carry on, “Merlin, shut up Ron.” He ditched his glass on the table and stormed off.


	5. Breaking Point?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They begin their research into past Hogwarts students - will there be any breaks?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mornin' folks!   
> Sorry that this chapter is a few days late, I've been bedridden with some kind of virus (not that one - no need to worry) and the movement from bed to PC was just too much. Fear not - I'm on the mend and here is a chapter for you all <3 
> 
> Leave some love xx

The weekend came and went. Harry found himself with Andromeda and Teddy in his spare time, playing with the energetic 5-year-old as if he had no cares in the world. He appreciated Andromeda's herculean task, and sought to help her as much as possible with the boy. Alas, Monday came around in no time at all, and as he shrugged on his burgundy robes, he thought of the work that was to be done today: methodical, and painstaking. They had paper records to sift through which wasn’t why he wanted to be an Auror in the first place, he wanted to help people, to fight and catch dark wizards. This case was going to frustrate him to no end, he knew that.

As he entered the atrium of the Ministry he prepared for the usual attention - well-wishers, reporters,  _ fans. _ If he apparated to the Ministry points for half past eight, he may just get to the office by nine, meaning that the full half an hour of his journey was being mobbed by just about every known annoying human being in the small radius of Wizarding London.

Sure enough, he stumbled through the Atrium the best he could, trying to be polite and diplomatic as he went. Draco was already slouched at his desk when Harry finally came in, mussed and rumbled from his negotiation through the crowds. The office was piled with tomes of records. The floor was barely visible, and Harry’s desk was buried under a stack of the records. Draco looked up at Harry and gave him a glance that screamed: ‘Please kill me’. Harry smiled awkwardly and put his cloak on the neglected coat rack.

Harry felt that he should apologise for just walking out of the club, but he didn’t know how to broach the subject. He considered what to say for a second but shook it off - he didn’t owe Malfoy anything.

“So, we have records from the seventies… erm… yeah, here,” Draco motioned to a vaguely organised pile in the middle of the room, “records from the mid-50s to 1970… there,” he pointed to the pile heaped up near the door, “and records from the 70s to 80s just by your desk.”

Harry nodded, “erm… why?”

“McGonagall thought that we might need them or something… I don’t know.” Draco looked defeated as his eyes scanned over the piles.

Harry raised his eyebrows and plopped into his chair. He fiddled with a quill while he pondered about what to say, “What’s the plan of attack?” he asked, eyeing up Malfoys desk - it was almost too organised; he wondered how long he’d been here.

“Well…” Draco sighed, and put down the large tome he’d been reading through, “What I’m doing is looking through the records for a year - I’m starting in ‘70 - and searching for people who had siblings. Then my plan is to ask Auror Anderson to run the names of those people with siblings. When that’s done, I thought we could go interview them and see if any of them have a squib in the family.” Draco levitated a record book from the 70s pile over to Harry’s desk.

Harry nodded, “Sounds like a good plan,” he pulled the leather-bound book open and grimaced when he saw the sheer volume of material, “How many volumes for the 70s?” he asked.

Draco turned a page, “Many,” he sighed, “They’re quite hefty though, and they contain all the personal details and academic records of each student.”

Harry sighed and flicked to the first page of the book.  _ 1975, O-S. _

As he looked over the page, he understood what Draco meant. The books were simply the files piled together and bound so as not to be lost. Each file on the inside had several components to it, meaning that they would have to sift through each file for the information they needed. Harry groaned, he’d almost liked Draco’s idea before.

“Yeah before I can do this, I need coffee,” Harry sighed, “Want one?” he offered. The book that he had been holding dropped to the desk with a  _ thunk _ and Harry pushed his sleeves up past his elbows in anticipation for the work that had to be done. It was just dawning on him that he wouldn’t see the outside of his office all day.

“No.” Draco’s tone was flat, uninterested; it was right back to being  _ Malfoy. _

“Suit yourself then.” Harry huffed.

Draco sat impeccably still in the office until Harry was well out of earshot and then let his head drop to the desk. One of the reasons that he had gone to the club was to try and pull. Had he not run into Potter that probably would have happened. His situation was getting  _ dire _ and it wasn’t like he had a lot of potentials to bed, being a death eater and all.  _ EX _ death eater.

‘Stupid cock-block Potter,’ he thought to himself, ‘I bet he never has any damn trouble getting some action when he needs to.’

He lifted his head from the cold, hard, desk and rested into the crook of his elbow instead. The loud sound of something being slammed onto the surface rang out on the desk and he lifted his head. Harry had left a cup of coffee for him.

“I said I didn’t want it, Potter.”

“Well you got it, git.” Harry sat down and sighed.

Harry tried to not look up as Draco reluctantly took a sip of the coffee. He smiled to himself, smug at his knowledge that Malfoy would drink the coffee and carry on working. Harry took a long sip of his own coffee and flipped the page of the 1975 edition leisurely with one hand while he cradled the cup in the other. The first folder in this particular volume was of no significance - they had no siblings. As he flipped the pages to the next student, resisting the urge to read through their files, Harry became acutely aware of the way Malfoy was shifting in his seat and it irritated him. For now, he bit his tongue.

Harry flipped the page, made a few notes and flipped it again. Malfoy glanced at him, the intensity in his gaze burning into Harry. Harry paid no attention.

For now, the office was silent except for the occasional turning of a page and hasty note taking. The clang of Harry’s empty coffee cup hitting his desk rang through the office like a gunshot and Draco looked up again for a brief second; his annoyance permeated through the room. Harry found that he was just over half way through this volume in no time. He had a few leads to pass on to Anderson too, so it was proving to be a fruitful endeavour.

Harry turned the page feeling optimistic, though this optimism turned into something far darker when the page settled and he saw the moving identification photograph laughing back at him with eyes full of life and a grin that reminded him of the Weasley twins… well, twin. He desperately tried to swallow but his mouth had dried out. His chest felt like he was caught in the vice-like hold of Fenrir Greyback as his lungs struggled to fill themselves. He tried, he really did, to stifle the sob that was rising in his throat, but he can’t have succeeded as he felt a tear make its way down his face. It was perhaps a bit too much to face this today.

“Malf-- Draco.” he choked out, his all too dry mouth struggling to fit its way around the words.

Draco looked at him with contempt, but his expression quickly changed to one of neutral distaste when he saw Potters anguish, “Yes?” he sighed.

Harry licked his lips, his dry tongue not doing much to relieve his discomfort, “Look…” he sighed, and hesitated as he took a deep breath, “Can you just finish this volume for me please?” his voice cracked embarrassingly as he spoke but he didn’t really care.

Draco looked at him, confused, but nodded cautiously. With this, Harry fled the room, combing his hands through his hair in an effort to maintain his control. Draco sighed, and walked over to Potters desk to pick up the book. He walked around to where Harry’s chair had been pushed back, and looked at what had made him leave so soon. What he saw made him feel something close to empathy for his partner. A photograph smiled up at him, a student brimming with personality and humour, wearing glasses not dissimilar to Harry’s of old.

Draco’s fingers skimmed the page, feeling the smooth, aged parchment below his fingers as he read the file. He settled into Harry’s chair and sighed.  _ James Potter _ .


	6. Difficult Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Harry talk over dinner...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew... I should finally go back to work tomorrow after being off for a while. Hopefully that will mean an update every day again - can't wait to get this all up after writing it for so long! <3 
> 
> Leave some love, I appreciate it as always xx

Draco scrawled a quick memo and sent it to find Harry:  _ It’s done,  _ it read. He had finished that volume of 1975, but wondered if he would have to fill in for Harry every time he saw someone that he knew. For now, he settled back behind his own desk and restarted his list. So far, they both had substantial lists of students who had siblings. Malfoy would get Anderson to look over it all in more detail as they carried on searching all the files.

Harry came back into the office quietly. Draco noticed that his eyes were bloodshot and his hair was straggly from where his hand had been running through it; his sleeves were pulled down over his hands and the cuffs were undone. When he sat on his desk chair, he pulled off the boots that had only just been issued to the Aurors department and sat, cross legged, on the chair. The huge dusty book staring up at him, now closed, from the desk.

“Thank you.” he said, his voice was croaky and tired, he barely looked at Draco as he said it, but he hardly looked anywhere other than his knees so it wasn’t an issue.

“It’s alright,” Draco replied quietly, “I added it to your list,”

Harry nodded, “No, really I mean it. I appreciate that you did that for me.” his voice was still thick, but calm and weary.

Draco ran the end of his quill over his mouth slightly and bit his lip as he considered his actions. He eventually stood up and walked over to Potters desk, he took a seat on the edge and tentatively rested a hand on his shoulder, “I--” he began, but cut himself off; he wasn’t used to being this familiar with Harry, “We’re partners,” he mumbled, “I’ve got you, even if I don’t like you all that much.”

Harry could hear the smile in his voice as Draco spoke and he nodded glumly. Before Draco could move his hand, Harry leaned his head on it seeking the comfort that it provided. He felt Malfoy flinch for a split second before he relaxed, then he squeezed his shoulder. Harry was only slightly shocked at the closeness that had occurred; they had after all began something of a rocky friendship now, which was far more familiar than nemeses.

“Sorry, it was just a shock,” Harry whispered, his voice still hoarse and his throat still dry, “I don't have many pictures of them - my parents, and the few that I do have are of when they were older, when I was born,” Harry looked up at Draco, “I’ve seen them once, you know, not in person obviously, but before I died… they were there for me,” the words simply poured out of Harry now, tears forming in his eyes and a lump in his throat, “god, I'm a mess, Harry Potter - the boy who can't get over people he's never known.” He added with a self-deprecating chuckle. 

Draco didn't know what to say, so he simply listened. Eventually he took a deep breath, “It isn't something one merely ‘gets over’, Potter, parents are parents whether you've met them or not. It's understandable to be shocked, but don't for one second think that it makes you weak or pathetic or anything of the sort.”

Harry stared at Draco, with big round eyes that made Harry look like a vulnerable child. Draco wasn't used to seeing this side of Harry, and he expected that not many people had seen this side of the Saviour, “Thanks, Draco,” Harry's head was still on Draco's hand, and Draco was becoming acutely aware of the fact, “I always could rely on you telling me the truth.” 

“Right… well,” Draco pulled his hand out from between Harry’s head and shoulder and cleared his throat, “This doesn’t mean that you’re exempt from doing any more work Potter,” he teased, “There are still plenty more volumes to go through.” he settled in his chair and watched Harry. He nodded his head and seemed to attempt to bolster himself before picking up his wand and summoning another tome to flick through. 

Harry didn't think that Draco had seen him subtly duplicate the photo of his father, he had resigned to himself that it wasn't a big deal - but he would do the same for his mother, Sirius and Remus. Draco, however, had seen the quick flick through the yellowed pages of the book to James Potters profile, which he may have dog eared for Harry's curiosity, and the swift but well practiced spell across the page. He smiled briefly to himself, after years of watching Harry Potter he could still find amusement in the mans predictability. 

They sat doing work for hours; Harry sat cross legged in his desk chair with his head slumped in his hand, flicking through the pages and making hasty notes here and there; Draco working as efficiently as ever, not absorbing the information that wasn’t necessary, filtering out the useless. Occasionally Draco would lift his gaze from his desk to Harry, to check that he was okay. He understood that being suddenly confronted with a loved one who had passed could arouse several unwanted, intense emotions. As they worked, though it was relatively quiet, there was no tension or awkward silences. It was actually mostly comfortable. They occasionally muttered things to each other from across the room, but purely things to do with work until Draco checked the clock on the shelf - it was way past dinner time. He screwed up a piece of scrap paper and threw it at Potters face with a smirk.

Harry didn’t look up from his page, but answered with a teasing grin on his face, “Uh huh?”

“Dinner?” Draco shrugged.

Harry looked up and raised an eyebrow at Malfoy, “We’re doing dinner together now?”

Malfoys brows knitted together, “I just thought--” he sighed, “Never mind.  _ I’m  _ going for dinner.” He stalked his way out of the office and ran a hand through his hair.

Harry sighed. ‘I could explain what happened in the club, I guess,’ he thought to himself, ‘We ought to try and get on better.’

Harry ran his hands over his face, fatigue from reading was setting in, and he needed a break. He grabbed his cloak, shoved on his boots and trudged towards the cafeteria. The corridors were, as usual, full of people rushing around and carrying several different weird and wonderful things. A junior Auror ran past with a smoking cauldron and Harry chuckled to himself, remembering some of the disasters from his training days. When he got to the lifts ready to go to the cafeteria, he stood alongside Malfoy who was waiting.

“I could use dinner,” Harry said lamely, “if that’s alright with you?”

Malfoy nodded, but didn’t look at Harry, “You can do what you want Potter, just thought we could use a break, it’s getting later after all.”

The twenty-four-hour cafeteria was starting to empty, with it being almost too late for dinner to be served. Harry and Draco joined the queue, and surveyed the remnants of the food that was on offer to them. Today’s special was pie and chips with all the trimmings and Harry’s stomach rumbled in anticipation. Draco chose an Italian pasta dish and grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl.

They sat down.

“I guess I should explain myself.” Harry said as he took his food from the tray and arranged it all in front of him. There was treacle tart on the menu today and Harry had taken two portions.

“Explain what?”

“What happened in the club the other night,” Potter explained, “I was a bit of a dick.” He didn’t look Malfoy in the eye.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow and swirled his pasta around his fork. He looked up at Harry expectantly, “Well go on then… explain.”

Harry explained how he wasn’t in the best of moods that night, mostly because of Malfoys rudeness to Alexandre. Malfoy nodded along as Harry spoke and ate as Potter carried on. When it came to explaining Ron’s comment, Harry froze up slightly.

“This isn’t something that I tell many people,” he said, hiding behind his glass of water and looking around the cafeteria for people who may try to listen to their conversation, “It gets to me still.”

“You don’t have to tell me everything, Potter,” Malfoy finished the last of his food and pushed his bowl away but still fiddled with his fork, desperate for his hands to be occupied, “I get it. There’s nothing to explain,” for a second there was a brief but knowing glance shared between them; then the masks went straight back up.

“The muggles I was raised by…” Harry began, he looked down at his food, desperate to avoid the intense gaze that bored through him, “they weren’t good people. Until I was eleven, or twelve, my bedroom was the cupboard under the stairs,” his voice broke as he remembered, and he took a deep breath. 

“Harry…” Draco dropped his fork and took Harry’s hand in his own, “you don’t have to talk about anything you’re not comfortable with. I’m not going to force you, at all…” 

“No, no, I need to say this,” Harry explained, “Essentially I was treated like a dog. Worse than, probably. I was made to do the cooking; if anything ever went wrong it was obviously my fault because  _ everything… everything,  _ was always my fault… and I was always punished for it,” Harry sighed, he really hated reliving his childhood, “when I got my Hogwarts letter and started my first year, I felt like I finally had somewhere I belonged. For the first time, I had people who cared about me - Ron and Hermione, Hagrid, McGonagall…” 

Draco felt guilty, he had been another bully in Harry’s life, making everything worse than it already was, “I’m sorry… Harry, I really am. You don’t need to say more,” he had honestly had no idea that this was the case for Potter, that his life with the Muggles had been so bad. In a rather selfish way, he didn’t know if he could bear hearing everything. 

Harry nodded and carried on eating. The food at the ministry reminded him of the food at Hogwarts, there was always plenty and it was always really good. They sat in a comfortable silence for the rest of their meal. Their only disturbances were work related - Harry had to attend a meeting, and Auror Anderson checked in to say hello.

Draco pulled the apple from the middle of the table, shined it on his trousers then stood, “I’m going to head back, see if I can find anything else out. When you get back, I’ll send what we have so far to Anderson and see what he can do.” His voice was still soft from soothing Harry earlier on, and he realised how strange it sounded coming from him.

Harry nodded and Draco stalked off, eating his apple as he went.


	7. A Hunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Does Malfoy's hunch have any evidence? Is it even possible?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey, this was supposed to be two chapters, again, but they were both short so I mushed them together! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy <3

When Harry came back to their office, Malfoy was standing over his desk working intensely on one of the letters. Mists of various colours came out of the end of Malfoy’s wand and washed over the surface of the parchment, each different colour highlighted something different on the letter and glowed vibrantly. Malfoy hummed slightly. The piles of Hogwarts records still dominated the floor, reminding Harry of the sheer volume of work they had to do.

“Investigatory spells?” Harry asked as he walked past and plonked down in his chair.

“Mmm,” Draco grunted, “They’re really not telling me anything though. It’s weird.” He put his wand down and crossed his arms.

Harry eyed him suspiciously, “What _are_ they telling you?” he asked, glancing at the letter on Malfoys desk.

“That’s precisely the thing,” he looked down at Harry with a confused look, “there’s literally nothing for them to show.”

“Malfoy, that’s ridiculous,” Harry went to stand next to Malfoy, and looked down at the letters, a closer look showed that there was indeed very little that the spells had revealed, “Wait…” Harry thought aloud, “What?”

Malfoy nodded, “I think this proves that this was done by a squib.”

Harry raised an eyebrow in response - silently asking Malfoy to explain himself. Before Harry could open his mouth, Malfoy moved like lightening to Harry’s desk and grabbed a piece of parchment.

“Even if you’ve not written anything on it yet,” he waved the parchment in front of him as he spoke, and Harry watched him with a sense of interest - investigatory spells hadn’t been his forte during training, “There will still be some of your residual magic on it. Being around magic leaves a trace that is quite hard to get rid of.” He laid the parchment next to the letter and whispered the spell over it. Once again several coloured mists cascaded out of the tip of his wand and settled over the parchment. A silvery green line lingered over the spot where Draco had just been holding it, “there’s my magic - look,” he said, a reddish mist filled the page, “there’s you,” he explained as it settled, “and it looks like that’s it - just you and me on there.”

“Right,” Harry looked back to the letter, “but there are other colours on there too.”

Malfoy nodded, “Yeah, okay…. There’s my green, your red colour….” he traced his finger over the different colours, “this yellow here is…” he tapped the colour with his wand and a kind of profile expanded in front of them, showing a Ministry ID and details of the users wand, “yeah… see that’s Anderson. There’s no other traces of magic on here which means to me that the person who did it isn’t a wizard.”

Harry bent down to look closer, “No… look,” he pointed to the very bottom of the letter, to a spot underneath the other colours, “the parchment has a very pale blue tinge to it now. Maybe it was done by a squib…” he said, humouring Malfoy a bit, “and the desaturation of the colour is because they’re surrounded by magic things in their day to day life but none of it is their own.”

Draco nodded, “I hadn’t seen that before Scarhead… you’ve got a good eye.”

Harry half grinned, “I think we should consult with someone far smarter than we are.”

“If you say Granger, I will hex you,” Draco rolled his eyes, “I’m just as smart as she is.”

“I was going to say Hermione, yes… She’s in the Ministry so we may as well just send her a memo and ask her to come and take a look.” Harry sighed, and Draco folded his arms, appearing to mull it all over.

Harry sat behind his desk again, and wrote a quick memo to Hermione asking her to swing by. The paper memo flew off with a flourish, and Malfoy glared at Harry from across the room. A knock at the door startled Malfoy. It was Auror Anderson and he was holding a letter.

He poked his head around the corner when neither Harry nor Draco decided to answer the door, “Muggle police have had no luck finding the man who delivered the letters to the muggles,” he explained, “They said they’ll keep on trying though.”

Harry groaned, “Honestly, that’s what I was expecting.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes and summoned another book of records to his desk. He settled into a quiet work as Anderson spoke to Harry.

“We have these names, Anderson,” Harry passed him his piece of paper, and threw a glance at Draco, “Can you look into them a bit more for us while we keep on digging?” Harry gave a charming smile to Anderson who nodded. Draco silently held up his list and Anderson took it as he left.

Within no time, a memo flew into the office. Draco raised an eyebrow as it flew past him but otherwise didn’t acknowledge it.

“It’s from Hermione,” Harry said as he unfolded it, “She says that she’s just about to go home so she can’t swing by, but yes, you could very well be right.” He sighed. So, Draco had been right and now Harry looked like a dick who didn’t trust his partner.

Draco nodded, “I mean, I did say so, Scarhead.”

Harry sighed and looked at his watch, “It’s getting late,” He groaned, “Want to call it a day?” A glance out of the window into the bullpen showed that nearly everyone had gone home already. Malfoy followed Harry's gaze out towards the maze of desks and sighed.

“I am pretty tired,” Malfoy mused, “I guess we should call it quits for today at least.” He raked his hand through his hair but didn’t move from his spot at the desk.

***

Grimmauld Place had changed drastically since the Order days. When he had finished his Auror training, Harry had paid the best craftsmen to restore the house to its former grandeur. It was no longer dusty and dishevelled, but refined, classy, and comfortable. The portrait of Walburga had been miraculously removed, Harry wanted to get a portrait of Sirius hung in the same spot but he was yet to find an artist that could do credit to his godfather. He had grown to love the old building dearly; it had become something of a sanctuary for him thanks to the heavy wards that kept the house hidden from the world. It was one of the only places where Harry could be _Harry_ , and not worry about public image or holding himself to the expectations that the media placed on him. The only room that had not been renovated was Sirius’; Harry couldn’t bear changing it, and so it sat, cleaned up but very much the same.

He stood, stark naked, in the bathroom and stretched every muscle he could. He ached from being anchored to his desk, this paper-based case was killing him, he was sure. He knew that that would soon end when he began training for the inter-departmental quidditch match. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and pulled his hair from his hair tie. It hung past his shoulders, and fell in tangled curls; a short beard now graced his jaw and he couldn’t help but see the echoes of Sirius in his reflection. Sometimes when he looked at himself, he could forget the things that he had been through as a teenager; other times he thought that no change to his appearance would ever be able to mask it. No matter how hard he tried, he still had a few lines creeping around his eyes even though he was only 23. 

Harry looked at his naked form in the mirror. While his hair hid the scar on his forehead, nothing could hide the scar from Umbridge that still marred the back of his hand. Even more blatant though, and unmissable if he was topless, was the scar in the very centre of his chest. Shaped just like the scar on his forehead, but mangled and twenty times the size, it stood out against his tanned skin. He knew that being an Auror would result in an interesting collection of scars like Mad-Eye had, but he had never imagined that he would have two ‘Avada Kedavra’ scars on his body. He wore them with a twisted sense of pride - perhaps it was morbid to some people - but Harry’s sense of humour had been partly forged in the throes of war, and it sometimes showed.

The shower ran hot behind him, filling the room with steam. He stepped in and let the hot water run over his muscles. The relief was immeasurable and a sigh escaped his lips. With a vague gesture of his hand, he made the wizarding radio come to life and quiet music filled the steamy room. A gentle but throbbing guitar echoed throughout the tiled bathroom and took the edge off the tension that Harry felt in his shoulders.

He thought about the case. If these letters were being sent out by a squib, what were their motives? Were they jealous of people who could go to Hogwarts? Did they want to shatter some dreams by getting peoples hopes up and then subjecting them to the same heartbreak that they had gone through? Did they simply want to break that statute of secrecy in an effort to get back at the wizarding world? He contemplated the possibilities as he stood, face down under the hot water. He pushed his long, wet hair back and let the hot water beat down onto his face.

Harry groaned aloud to himself, it was no use thinking of the case now; there was very little he could do when he was at home. He had to learn to relax.

He let the water cascade over him for a while longer, then finally reached for his body wash. He tried to calm his brain down, to think about things other than work but it was no use: his mind was over active at the best of times but when he had very little else to occupy him, work was often all he could think about. He stepped out of the shower, pulled a thick towel around his waist and then took up his spot in front of the mirror. He pulled a straight razor from the cabinet and tidied up his beard, while it could be done with magic, there was something soothing about shaving the muggle way. Every time he picked up his razor he remembered when Sirius had taken a quiet moment away from the Order to teach him how to shave the muggle way; it always filled him with a sense of affection and longing for his godfather, as well as an overwhelming amount of admiration for the ritual that went along with shaving this way - not only did it provide a closer shave than magic, but it made Harry feel pampered.

Harry cast a drying charm over himself when he was done, pulled on a plush dressing gown and sat in his bedroom. This was how he spent his evenings when he wasn’t with his friends: showering, trying to switch off, and inevitably driving himself crazy with boredom. Eventually he drifted off into a much-needed sleep.


	8. Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco go for breakfast... are they friends now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy! I hope everyone is doing well, and enjoying this fic! 
> 
> Leave some love, let me know y'all are enjoying everything xx

Malfoy stayed at his desk. He had no desire to go back to his empty house, and simply wait to return to work the next day. With a heavy sigh, he lifted another volume of the records onto his desk. He sought to get as much work done as possible so that this case could be done as quickly as could be. Without Potter here to distract him, the work got done much quicker. The bullpen outside of the office had almost emptied, with only a few Aurors from the night shift hanging around; a comfortable quiet descended upon the usually buzzing department. Malfoy took his boots off, undid his tie, and loosened his collar in an effort to settle in for the night. The office was quiet, they had a radio somewhere, but Draco hated listening to the same songs over and over again so he chose to work in silence under the charmed lights in a bid to be as efficient as possible. The only sound that broke the quiet was the turning of the page and the scratching of his quill on the parchment he was using, two sounds that relaxed Draco.

Draco looked at the work he had done, five more volumes sat on the ‘done’ pile and he had another list of names to pass onto Anderson. With a sigh, he decided to call it a night. He organised the piles of records on the floor into clear piles, tidied up the evidence board, filed his paperwork and cleared his desk. The office resembled something like an organised work environment for the first time since Potter and Malfoy had been partnered together. He felt somewhat satisfied, without Potters constant annoyances and distractions, he had managed to get a great deal of work done.

He checked the time; it was almost midnight. He could apparate home, it was perfectly reasonable to do so, but for some reason he just didn’t want to; possibly he was too exhausted. He grabbed his wand, and with a quick flourish managed to transfigure his desk chair into a single bed. It had dark blue quilted bedding swathed around it and a mountain of pillows, and yet it was nothing compared to the luxurious bed Draco had at home. For tonight, though, it would do. With a wave of his wand the blinds over the internal windows snapped down and the office door locked. He stripped down to his underwear, folded his uniform carefully on his desk, and crawled under the duvet that adorned his transfigured bed. The bed was surprisingly comfortable, the pillows seemed to be enchanted somehow, cradling his head in the most comfortable position at all times. 

He lay awake for an hour or so, contemplating the case: would they ever find who did it? The list of names was growing faster than they could investigate and they had very few leads. Perhaps, if Harry would push him a bit, Robards would set up a task force to divide the work up and make it more manageable. Knowing Potter though, he wouldn’t use his position as The Saviour to benefit them. He was far too honourable. Malfoy took some deep breaths and focused on emptying his mind. The pillows on the bed began to massage Malfoys neck, and a gentle warmth ran through him. Eventually he must have fallen asleep, because things that could only happen in dreams surrounded him.

***

When Harry got to the office the next morning, he had made sure to arrive earlier than usual so he could get a head start, he opened the door to find that it thudded against -- a bed? He frowned, and ever so gently moved the bed out of the way with a silent spell.

He gazed down on Malfoy, who was only partially hidden by a rich looking duvet and smiled to himself. His initial amusement was swiftly replaced with embarrassment because Draco’s undressed torso was on display for all to see and Harry wasn’t entirely sure what level of decent Draco was underneath the rest of the covers. He took a moment to look over his sleeping form, to appreciate how at peace he looked.

‘Is that a tattoo?’ Harry thought to himself, ‘I’ll have to ask Malfoy about that at some point.’

“Stop looking at me, Potty, and close the door,” Malfoy grumbled, and shocked Harry who hadn’t thought he was awake, “You’re letting the warm air out and my heating charms won’t last forever.” His voice was thick with sleep, and he pulled the duvet up to emphasise his point.

Harry cleared his throat, closed the door and went over to his desk, all while trying to hide the blush that had crept up onto his face.

“Care to explain why there is a bed in the office, and why you’re in it?” Harry managed to choke out through the amused grin that he now wore.

Draco groaned, and sat up, his bare chest once more exposed, “I couldn’t be arsed apparating home,” he grumbled, and reached around for his trousers, “There’s not much point when I worked so late - I’d only be going home to wait until I had to come back again.” he explained, and pulled his trousers on while he was still half under the duvet.

Harry averted his eyes and flicked through some memos on his desk. He stole a glance at Draco, for some reason, fascinated by the display. Perhaps it was because this was a new level of intimacy between the two - Draco looked so comfortable just shuffling around the office in front of Harry in only his undone trousers and no shirt. Harry looked at Draco’s back, and sure enough there was a tattoo there. Harry couldn’t quite tell what it was from this distance, however. Draco groaned, stretched and then tapped the bed and mumbled something and it transfigured back into his desk chair.

Harry took a deep breath, “So… breakfast?” He raised his eyebrows and looked expectantly at Draco.

“Alright,” Draco replied, as he shrugged on his shirt and made his way to the mirror that was shoved on their shelves, “Ministry canteen?” he asked. He ran his hands through his hair and sighed, clearly not satisfied with the way it had fallen this morning.

“I have somewhere better in mind,” Harry smiled, and took his cloak off, “Get dressed, don’t wear your cloak though.” He pulled a leather jacket from the coat stand and pulled it on, loving the way that it fit him.

Draco pulled a face - no cloak meant going out into the muggle world - but followed the instructions nonetheless. He pulled on his most muggle looking jacket and looked to Harry. His long hair was loose today, and one side was tucked behind his ear. Hesitantly, Draco admitted to himself that it looked good.

They walked in stony silence to the cafe that Harry wanted to go to. When they approached a dark alleyway Draco looked across at Harry with an anxious glance.

“Erm…” Malfoy hesitated, “Where are you taking me?” A hint of true concern came through in his voice and Harry stopped as he broached the entrance of the alley.

“The cafe is down here,” Harry explained, “I promise I’m not being weird, just trust me.”

Draco eyed Harry suspiciously, and followed him with caution. When he stood next to Harry, he could see the small wooden sign of the cafe and he relaxed a bit more. He sighed to himself and walked slightly behind Harry as he moved down the alley, towards the door.

“You know…” Harry spoke low, “If you trust me enough to protect you from dark wizards and shit at work, you could trust me to take you for breakfast, Malfoy.”

Draco raised an eyebrow, but agreed. It was perhaps a momentary lapse in his relationship with the saviour; perhaps it was because he was still half asleep.

They entered the cafe. A bell tinkled as the door opened and a pleasant looking girl with bright ginger hair stepped out to the counter. The cafe was a wonderfully cosy arrangement of exposed brick, vintage wallpaper, dark wood, leather armchairs and a magnificent looking fireplace with fairy lights draped over the mantle. Rich, soft looking blankets rested on the armchairs, and several mismatched rugs lay across the wooden floor. Big windows lined the back wall of the cafe, overlooking a small courtyard. Heavy curtains hung over them, adding to the warm atmosphere that enveloped Harry and Draco on the cold November day. The delightful smell of chocolate, pastries, bacon and coffee filled the air. The girl behind the counter greeted them with a smile as they walked further in. Harry knew what he wanted, as always, but Malfoy lingered at the menu.

“Pot of tea for me please,” Harry asked the girl, a charming smile on his face as always, “and some fresh orange, a bacon sandwich and some pastries.” She nodded a reply, rang everything through the till and he paid. Harry slyly shoved some muggle money into Draco’s hand and slinked off to find a table.

Moments later Draco walked silently over, and took a seat opposite Harry. He raked his hands over his face and sighed, slumping his head into his hand. Harry raised his eyebrows, and ran a hand along his jaw.

“Okay?” He asked.

Draco nodded, “Just tired,” he smiled grimly, “I had a late night,” Harry frowned at him, silently telling him that he didn’t have to do that, “I got loads done though, it’s easier to focus when the department is quieter.” He justified.

Harry fiddled absentmindedly with the edge of the blanket that was draped over his chair. The silence that descended on them wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t entirely pleasant. They couldn’t discuss too much about their work because of the rest of the people in the cafe, and work was all they really had ever spoken about. They sat in this odd silence until the waitress came with a tray laden with their drinks and food. She distributed them on the table and left with a curt nod. Draco pulled his teapot toward him, swirled the tea leaves around inside and then let it sit. Harry didn’t even check his - he already knew that the tea here was strong and delicious. He picked up half of his bacon sandwich and took a hearty bite. He let out a sigh and his eyes fluttered closed with satisfaction.

Malfoy cleared his throat, “Merlin, Potter, it’s just a bacon sandwich,” he raised an eyebrow as Harry opened his eyes, “No need to be quite so obscene.”

Harry sniggered, “I’m hungry. Shut up, Malfoy.” He took another bite and savoured it more this time, the taste of salty smoked bacon lingering on his lips.

Malfoy smirked in response and poured himself a cup of tea. He placed the strainer over Harry’s cup and added milk to his own. He relaxed as he took a mouthful. They sat in a comfortable silence, and it was perhaps the first time that Harry had appreciated Malfoy’s company for what it was: no expectations, just company. Oftentimes Harry realised that they had seen each other in nearly every situation possible, they had fought against each other and then alongside one another; they had partied together; worked together; and eventually, shared breakfast together. It seemed that they knew the worst of each other, and the best. 

They carried on with their breakfast quietly until just their drinks remained. Harry sipped his orange juice and gazed over the cafe, just drinking in the pleasant atmosphere.

“So how did you find this place?” Draco asked quietly, his voice barely a murmur, following Harry’s gaze across the people.

“I just stumbled across it,” Harry explained, and drained his juice, “I usually bring dates here because there’s an apparition point nearby and if they turn out to be  _ fans  _ or a little crazy I can make a getaway,” he added dryly, a morbid edge coming through his tone of voice.

Draco put his empty tea cup back onto its saucer and leaned back in his chair, surveying Harry. He nodded as if to say ‘fair enough’.


	9. Letting Loose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco break some tension in the office!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morning all!   
> This was my favourite chapter to write, so I sincerely hope you enjoy it too <3 
> 
> If you're reading the fic with the playlist, the obvious song for this scene is Dance like a Hippogriff <3 https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7zwSW4S80YP35idD1R5Xjg?si=-ViVX7moTbqLyf-7dODJIQ

They sat back in their office, going through more of the records in search of people who could fit the necessary criteria. The office felt tired, claustrophobic, and strained with the effort that it took to do such a monotonous task. Harry was shattered, he wanted nothing more than to crawl into his bed at Grimmauld Place and read a fun book or play his guitar yet he sat dutifully at his desk trawling through the records of old students in the hopes of catching whoever was sending these fraudulent letters. He wondered to himself if Malfoy was finding their task just as mundane, or if he enjoyed the concrete evidence left behind in a paper trail. Harry looked beyond Malfoy, out of the windows and toward the bullpen. The department was the usual hive of activity, with Aurors running this way and that, piles of paperwork stacked high, memos zipping through the air, and people being brought in for interrogation. Time seemed to be sped up in the world outside their office; inside it seemed like they were trying to move through treacle.

Harry slammed shut the set of records that he had been working on and levitated it over to the ‘done’ pile. It landed with a thud and he looked at the next one to be done, wishing that he didn’t have to do it. He ran a hand over his face, raking it through his hair in frustration.

Draco sighed from across the room and put another heavy book onto the ‘done’ pile, “How many more, Scarhead?” He asked and looked at Harry who looked weary and worn out. A flash of concern washed over Draco - was Harry sleeping? Was he still plagued with the nightmares that he had heard so much about in Hogwarts? He shook the thoughts out of his head.

“About a pile,” Harry groaned, “This is taking forever, I need a break.” He gestured in the vague direction of the radio and a song by the Weird Sisters pulsed throughout the room. Draco recognised it with a smile; it had played at the Yule Ball all those years ago.

Harry’s eyes lit up, and a grin crept on his lips. He turned up the volume as one song ended and another began. ‘Do the Hippogriff’ blasted throughout the office and Harry couldn't help but dance in his seat, letting himself be carefree for just a moment. He cast a self-conscious gaze over at Draco to find that he was doing the same with a smile on his face.

Harry turned the volume up even more and stood up from his desk. Draco looked at him, confused. Harry bit the bullet, thinking that what he was about to do was weird but would be fun. He stretched his hand out to Draco with a cheeky smile on his face.

Malfoy eyed him suspiciously, “Potter, what are you doing?” his eyebrow raised in the classic Malfoy way and he stared at him, a touch horrified.

“Don’t read into it,” Harry shouted over the music, thankful for the muffliato on the room, and started dancing, “Just let loose, ferret face,” he danced in the middle of the room, running a hand through his long hair and singing along. He shook his hips in time to the beat and tapped his foot; he loved this song. Eventually as he went deeper into the music, letting his mind empty his hips slowed down; the childish edge to his dance had been lost, and the sensual side came through. Draco was certain that this was a show, but maybe he'd interpreted it wrong. He collected himself and decided to partake in the scene.

Draco laughed at the ludicrous display, rolled his eyes, and then joined in just as the chorus started blaring out of the radio. They danced fairly close to each other because of the piles of books cluttering the floor, and in a flash, Draco had reached out and pulled Harry closer, his hand resting on the small of his back. Harry put a hand on Malfoys shoulder and they fell into an easy rhythm. They danced close, their hips and legs touching, becoming intermingled with one another but their torsos stayed apart, perhaps too much intimacy for a workplace dance. Malfoy allowed himself to watch as Harry closed his eyes and sang at the top of his lungs, biting his lips in between lines and his breath hitched as he realised how nice Potter's lips were. That wasn't a normal thing to notice, was it? How attractive someone's lips were? He felt Harry's hips on his, and couldn't help but focus on the feeling of Harry's movements, so closely mirrored by his own, resonating deep within him.

Harry was supremely conscious of Malfoy’s hand on his back, just above his bum, but didn’t mind at all. Much like Draco, he was aware of how close he was to his partner; but couldn't think of any reason to break apart from him, his strong arm around his waist felt reassuring rather than too familiar, and the two buttons that were undone on Malfoys shirt just seemed to fit the way he felt - open, comfortable, happy. Harry tempted furtive glances at Draco's exposed skin, thinking about how it might feel beneath his fingertips - if he caressed Draco there, would there be a trail of goosebumps? Would his breath catch in his throat? Would he laugh because he was ticklish? Harry shook the thoughts from his mind, paying heed to his own words and not reading into the situation that he himself had initiated. 

“... and that was The Weird Sisters with their number one classic ‘Do the Hippogriff’, which some of you may remember being performed at Hogwarts all those years ago. We’re joined by the band in the studio today…” the radio host spoke and Harry turned the radio down wandlessly. Draco removed his hands from Harry, dragging them over his body as he did so; Harry liked the way it felt, the warm reassurance of Draco's big hands holding him and touching him sent a shiver down his spine. He wasn't supposed to enjoy the way that felt. They were colleagues. 

“What was that?” he asked, his face flushed and slightly out of breath.

Harry cleared his throat, “Nostalgia?” He said, “Or fun?” 

“Yes well…” Draco straightened his robes and then sat back down in his chair, “Back to work scarhead.”

Harry stood in the middle of the room for a second, still laughing from their impromptu party, and glanced at himself in the mirror. His hair was messed from whipping his head around and dancing with reckless abandon. He suppressed his laughter, combed through his hair with his fingers and snuck a glance at Malfoy. He sat in his chair looking at Harry with a smirk on his face. His eyes glinted in the dim light of the office and he quickly averted his gaze.

Harry’s face flushed as he sat back at his desk, remembering how Draco's hands felt on his back. The radio still played, just much quieter, and Harry couldn’t help but tap his foot along to his favourite band. The work seemed to go much quicker now, as if they needed a change in energy to move things along. Every so often Harry would catch Malfoy looking over at him, but as soon as Harry looked over Draco would turn his head away quickly. 

Lunch came around, and Harry pulled on his cloak, “I’m meeting my cousin for lunch,” he explained, “I’ll be back soon.”

When Harry had left, Draco allowed himself to laugh aloud. Had he and Harry really just danced around their office as if they had done it a million times? He was amazed at how easy it had been to pull Harry closer to him as though it were nothing to hold him close; though he dared not to think about how tempting it was to admire Harry's features when he wasn't looking. 


	10. Admissions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco has some news; the boys begin their interviews.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings earthlings!   
> I hope you enjoy this chapter :) I really appreciate all of your support, it means so much <3 
> 
> Continue to leave love, and I'll continue to revel in it instead of my insecurities xx

Anderson leaned against the office door, checking his watch and looking around impatiently. When Harry and Draco approached, he practically leapt at them. He was holding a sheaf of papers, and he thrust it out at them when he spoke.

“So, these are the people that I’ve narrowed down so far. I think these will be your best bets,” He handed Draco the sheaf of paper, “I’ve arranged for myself and Auror Reardon to continue through the paper records while you do interviews.”

“Are we conducting the interviews here or will we be doing them in the field?” Draco asked as he flicked through the list of names.

“Seeing how many there are we should visit to do preliminary interviews and then if something sticks out at us send a formal invitation to those who we want to speak to in more depth,” Harry said absentmindedly as he opened the office door, “that way we’re not clogging up the resources here.”

Draco looked at Harry and smirked, “Very well then, Auror Potter,” his voice was light and teasing, a sentiment reflected in his eyes as he looked at Harry, “We can get started on that soon. Thanks Anderson, if you find anything else, let us know.”

They sat at their respective desks and shared a sigh. It was going to be a busy week ahead as there were many people to interview.

“So, there’s families here from all over the British Isles… how do we want to attack this? Together or shall we split up and try to get through it quicker?” Malfoy sighed, spreading the papers out on his desk. He crossed his arms and surveyed the papers, his taut forearms exposed. Harry cleared his throat, not wanting to admit to himself that he had been admiring Draco’s stature.

“Let’s do it together,” he said, “constant vigilance and all that.” He finished with a curt nod, and went back to fussing about with some memos on his desk.

Malfoy seemed okay with Harry’s plan, and made his way over to their evidence board. He pulled up a larger map of the British Isles and surveyed it. He picked up his wand, twisting it between his fingers like a baton as he thought. Eventually, he placed a sticking charm on the map and added it to the board with a sigh. He picked up the papers from his desk, and began to place little conjured markers on the map at all the possible families’ addresses. They really did span the length and breadth of Britain; it would take a while to get through all of these which wasn’t a pleasant thought – but at least it was better than churning through paperwork for days on end.

Harry sighed loudly from the other side of the room, “Looks like I’m on emergency duty twice in the next two weeks,” he complained, “that’s going to throw a spanner in the works somewhat.” 

“When? Are we on at the same time? I got a memo the other day saying that I might be pulled on too.” He carried on placing markers on the map, trying to see if there were any patterns around the areas where the letters had turned up.

Harry sighed, “Erm… next Sunday, and then the Sunday after that.” He grimaced.

Draco nodded, “Yeah, that’s not great,” he sat back at his desk, arms folded and leaned back in his chair, “still… could be worse.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at Malfoy, “Oh really? How so? We both hate emergency duty.”

Malfoy smiled coyly at Harry and looked awfully proud of himself, “Well… I have a date next Sunday.”

Harry grinned, “Yeah, you’re right. It could be worse – I could be the poor sod that you’re going on a date with.”

He had barely finished his sentence when Draco threw an empty inkwell at him, causing him to jerk out the way and laugh almost uncontrollably. Draco joined in with Potter’s laughter and eventually – when they had stopped sniggering – accio’d the inkwell back to him, thankful that it hadn’t shattered when he had thrown it.

“Who have you managed to wrangle on a date then? I say wrangle because I assume you had to force them.” Harry pulled out his quill and started to reply to the memo’s that he had received.

Draco took a deep breath, “You know Junior Auror Franklin?”

Harry’s eyebrows raised in a mix of surprise and admiration, “Uh huh…” he prompted.

“Well, I asked him on a date and, shockingly, he didn’t say no.” Malfoy smiled to himself – he’d managed to potentially bag someone without the help (read: interference) of Pansy or Blaise.

“Well… have fun with that,” Harry smiled darkly, “Personally I think he’s just trying to worm his way up the ranks,” he chuckled, “or he just doesn’t have good taste.” His voice was thick with sarcasm but deep down he felt a little jealous. He hadn’t been able to get a date – not that he’d really tried – and Franklin was very handsome. He was reluctant to admit that they’d look good together too, Franklin was tall, dark and handsome; the perfect complement to Draco’s tall, blonde and handsome. Franklin was very well dressed, and was doing well considering he hadn’t been a junior Auror for long. Other than that, Harry knew little of him. He tried to push down the intrusive thoughts that fought their way through - he reasoned to himself that he was jealous because Draco had a date and he didn't, not because he wanted to be the ‘poor sod’ on a date with Malfoy. 

Shit. Had he really just admitted that to himself? Best to drag that back to whatever dark recess of his mind that that had come from. 

Malfoy rolled his eyes and shook his head, dismissing what Harry had to say. He gestured to the board and ran a hand through his hair. This part of the investigation was going to take a while, but at least they were one step closer to finding out what on earth was going on.

***

They had a list of families to interview. Malfoy didn’t want to let on to Potter that he recognised a lot of the names on the list, but two stuck out to him in particular: The Swinbournes and the Dresdens. Both were fairly old pureblood families that the Malfoy family had been acquainted with at one point or another and both had reputations for being more on the shady side of life. As they took a break halfway through the day, Draco tried to remember what he could about the families. He wrote in his notepad the things that he remembered that may be helpful, but the only things he could come up with were: pureblood; old-fashioned; strict; secluded. Not very helpful after all. 

The Swinbourne family were not too dissimilar to the Malfoy family; only they had always kept a neutral stance on everything, whether that be politics or fashion, but had been more than happy to peddle illegal goods onto the market. It had always infuriated Lucius. Malfoy paused to think, and ran the feathered tip of his quill against his lip.

The head of the family was Mrs Griselda Swinbourne, a fierce matriarch, widowed after the war. She had always intimidated Draco when he was younger, but now he doubted very much that she would remember a small blonde boy running through her honeysuckle at one of her balls. However her stern, wrinkled face was burned into his memory, along with the way she used to shout at him - he was not ashamed to admit that there was a sense of foreboding brewing at the thought of having to engage with her. 

Draco looked up from his page of hastily scribbled notes to see Harry pacing back and forth.

“Aren’t you getting tired, Potty?” Malfoy quipped, thinking that he was about to wear a hole in the pavement.

“I’m thinking ferret face,” Harry glared, “So shush.” Potter continued pacing, and chewing at the skin on the side of his thumb.

Draco rolled his eyes, put his notebook away and folded his arms over his chest. Potter stopped pacing and eyed him wearily. Draco just shrugged in response, “Penny for ‘em?”

Harry sighed and sat next to Draco with a huff, “I’m just really tired,” he took a deep breath, “All this apparating is draining me like nothing else.” He cracked his neck and leant back on the bench that Malfoy was sat on.

“Yeah, I understand,” Malfoy replied, “It’s getting tiring. Who knew that this is why we don’t just apparate everywhere?” He added with a chuckle, “Speaking of which, shall we carry on?”

They arrived at the address of the last of the families they were to interview today and Harry immediately felt uncomfortable. The house reminded him too much of Malfoy Manor, though perhaps a bit smaller, with a regal aura about it that set Harry on edge. Malfoy seemed to notice, and he dropped his cool aristocratic exterior just for Harry, instead he set his shoulders square and held his head high – the ever-vigilant stance of an Auror. Though Harry would never admit it to Malfoy, he appreciated his effort; and as much as Draco would never admit it, the only thing steeling his reserve was the fact that he was an Auror now, not a young child. 

Their feet crunched on the gravelled drive way of the house as they approached the entrance. Harry held the case file loosely in one hand, and had the other tucked into the pocket of his trousers in a desperate attempt at seeming more comfortable than he was.

“The Swinbourne family,” Draco sighed, “Not heard of these guys in a while.”

Harry aimed a questioning glance at his partner, “What do you mean?”

Draco shook his head slightly, “I’m just fairly sure that they used to host balls back in the day, I think we used to go as a family.” So he blurred his memory a bit for Potters sake - no crime in that, he reasoned. 

Harry rolled his eyes, “pureblood traditions never cease to confuse me. Why have balls in this day and age?”

Draco smirked slyly and made a rude gesture with his hand, “Oh, I don’t know Potty… they can be fun. You should try it some time.” There was a flirtatious edge to his voice – or so Harry thought.

Harry responded with a raised eyebrow and left it at that. He wasn’t sure how to deal with Malfoy’s innuendo banter so early on into their somewhat fraught partnership. Was he flirting? No - he had a date, right? It seemed like flirting though. 

The front door of the house before them opened as they stepped foot onto the porch. A well-dressed house elf answered, “How can I help you, sirs?”

Draco looked down at the well-spoken, well-dressed elf, “We’re here to see the heads of the house, if possible. It’s Aurors Malfoy and Potter.”

The elf bowed his head and opened the door wider as an invitation for Draco and Harry to enter. The house was grand, with black and white marble tiles spanning the length of the entrance hall, and wood panelled walls for as far as Harry could see.

Several portraits lined the walls, though the subjects were unusually quiet while Draco and Harry stood, waiting, in the hall. Many pairs of eyes gazed at them from the gilded frames, the people they belonged to stood to attention watching Harry and Draco as they lingered. Draco eyed Harry, silently communicating that even  _ he  _ thought this was weird. Harry shrugged in response, then found that a smirk crept up onto his face as he realised that they had apparently got quite good at understanding each other’s body language.

Suddenly, a short, plump, and overly accessorised woman swept down the stairs. She regarded the Aurors coolly and then raised an eyebrow, “Well?” she asked, her voice hard as glass, “how can I help?”

Harry cast a glance at Draco, hoping that he would take over. For all of his Gryffindor bravery, he never knew how to interact with overly traditional pure bloods; and this one seemed as Pureblood and traditional as they could get. She looked like she had stepped out of Edwardian London and into the modern era, with a stiff posture, and a sense of superiority that made Harry want to retch. 

Malfoy understood Harry’s silent plight and stretched out his hand, “Aurors Malfoy and Potter, ma’am,” he said, and she shook his hand, “We’re here to discuss an investigation that we are conducting and wondered if we could talk to the head of the house.” He ended his introduction with a curt nod and stood back next to Harry, who just sort of fiddled with the case file.

She took a deep breath, “Malfoy eh?” She looked him up and down, “Good to see  _ someone  _ from your family doing something decent,” she glanced at Harry but disregarded him, “Come through to the drawing room, we can talk there.”

With a swish of her long skirts, she led them into a fine drawing room. There were huge windows that let in streams of light from outside, draped with rich brocade curtains; and a very expensive looking settee that the woman had now perched herself on. Draco and Harry followed suit and sat on the settee facing her.

“So how may I be of assistance?” She asked, much more relaxed in here than she had been in the hall, if it’s possible to call sitting ramrod straight and stern faced ‘relaxed’. 

Harry cleared his throat, “We’re investigating a series of fraudulent letters that have turned up across the country. We have some evidence to suggest that they were created and sent out by a squib,” she seemed interested in what he had to say so far, “We have a basic time frame of when this person had access to these letters, and were wondering if we could ask you about your family history between the 50s through to the 70s?” Harry looked at the woman closely, she looked about the right age to potentially be a parent of whoever had committed the fraud.

She took a deep breath, “Well, we’ve not had a squib in a while,” she mused, “some halfwits who were no good with a wand, but no squibs.”

Malfoy leaned forwards, “It doesn’t have to be immediate family, any cousins, nieces or nephews that may have had the capabilities?”

She shook her head resolutely. Harry was unsure if it was pure blood pride or the truth. For now, he’d have to accept what she had shared.

As they left the house, Malfoy sighed. This was their last stop before going back to the office to write the reports of their interviews. It had been a fruitless day – they hadn’t gathered any new information and they were exhausted.


	11. Restoration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco relaxes, and the duo carry on with their interviews.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morning all! I hope you've all had a pleasant day - mine has been rather hectic at work now that we have to close at 10pm, and good lords, all I want to do is sleep forever. 
> 
> If you're following the playlist for this fic, the song I chose for this chapter is Gymnopedie No. 3 by Satie <3  
> You can catch the playlist here (and I've made it collaborative so feel free to add music you think fits - I'd love to hear what songs you think go where!) https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7zwSW4S80YP35idD1R5Xjg?si=-ViVX7moTbqLyf-7dODJIQ

The first thing Malfoy did when he got through his front door was shrug off his cloak with a sigh. It felt like the day had lasted a year; he was fatigued beyond anything he had felt in a while. He swept his hand through his hair and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt in an effort to make himself feel more comfortable; it was futile. They had spoken to several families, apparated across the country several times and started on their interview reports in just one day. He felt drained of his magic, he doubted that he could cast a simple heating charm right now.

The only saving grace of his day had been the boots that the Ministry had supplied. They catered to exactly what the person wearing needed, whenever they needed it: right now, it felt like Draco was having a foot massage. As pleasant as it was, however, he tugged the boots off with a huff and sank onto the sofa. His house elf appeared with a quiet pop and startled him slightly.

“Do you want some food, Master Malfoy?” She asked him, looking up at him with her bright eyes.

“Lilly, how many times have I told you to call me Draco?” He smiled, “I’ll have a bite to eat in a few hours, I think.” He leant towards her and straightened her dress.

“Very well, Master Malfoy” She disappeared with another quiet pop and Draco shook his head with a smile, Lilly was firmly stuck in the old ways – when he had presented her with a dress, she chose to say. When he had given her a room of her own, she had continued to serve him. It made him feel guilty sometimes but he respected that that was her choice. They both knew she was free to do as she pleased.

Draco arose from the sofa with as much grace as he could muster, “Lilly?” He called, “I’m going to run a bath, would you mind bringing me some red wine please?” he began to walk up his stairs to his suite of rooms. He heard Lilly in the bathroom, setting a tray down on the marble countertop, then a quiet pop as she left. As he entered the bathroom, he saw that on the tray was a bottle of his favourite red wine (Venetian of course), some magic infused bubble bath which was supposed to restore one’s magical energy, and a small plate of chocolates and strawberries. That sweet elf really did spoil him.

Rather than running the bath with a flick of his wand, Draco let the taps run while he undressed himself. He felt like he had been in this uniform for centuries, and so peeling it off of his tired body had never felt so good. He poured a generous amount of bubble bath into the water and watched as the water took on the mystical colour of his own magic. The water's colour changed, from black to dark purple, to navy blue through to a deep raspberry pink; each colour signifying a different strand of his magic, eventually settling on a deep, rich, blood red. That must have been the strand of magic within Draco that was depleted today. He sighed as he looked at the water, wondering to himself what the red signified. Turbulent swirls of magic coursed under the surface, sending shimmers of light through the water. It was astoundingly beautiful.

Draco poured himself a glass of wine, popped a chocolate in his mouth, and sunk himself into the magic water. He felt its effects immediately, like a warm embrace from a truly loved one, it reinvigorated Draco’s magical core. It was almost too intense for him, feeling like he had too much power surging in his body at once, but as he got used to the temperature of the bath and the surge of magic through him, the effects slowed. As this happened, the bubbles burst forth from those swirling lights in the water and filled the room with an enchanting aroma. Draco took a deep breath, having a sip of wine and rolling his neck as he did. Relaxation took over him now, in its purest form.

He walked through the house clad in his favourite dressing gown and slippers. As he walked past the drawing room, he felt suddenly inspired and took to the piano. Closing his eyes, he let himself play whatever he wanted. His music was mournful and romantic in its nature, filling the echoey room with melodies showing his innermost feelings. There was a deep melancholy in his mind, perhaps a fear of never being truly redeemed for his past, perhaps a fear of never finding true love or happiness. Perhaps regret. Regret tinged every aspect of his life, and that was most evident in his music. He regretted his actions as a teenager and he regretted his upbringing; though these things were never his choice. He regretted not telling Potter that he was grateful for the work he did in his trial; it was too late now to try and get Potter to realise just what he had done for him after the war. He realised now, in this moment of melancholy fueled creativity, that he may come to regret this budding admiration for Potter that he now fostered; fearing that it would turn into something much more complicated and deep seated than he could predict.

His tired musings took over him, and as he played the final notes of his lament, his head dropped; sleep encompassing him.

***

The house they had arrived at was reasonably non-descript for a wizarding family; large, grand, and yet unassuming, it looked like it had stood as part of the barren landscape for centuries without being changed. It was their last interview for the day, and both Draco and Harry were eager to get it over with. They stood on the doorstep, waiting to be let in. Or even acknowledged. The cool air bit at their faces, and no amount of heating charms seemed to help. Draco drew his cloak tight around him and snuck a glance at Harry – he seemed to be fine. Git.

“The Dresden Family,” Draco read from the casefile that was also tucked as close to his body as possible to escape the cold, “They seem fairly decent, on paper at least.”

“Do you know much about them? Were your families acquainted, or anything?” Harry asked, thinking that Malfoy’s connections were never ending. As he spoke, a spattering of cold rain began to fall, so Harry cast an  _ impervious _ over them both and continued waiting. The lack of a porch on the building provided no shelter from the elements, and the landscape of the area was particularly unforgiving.

“I’m not actually aware if they were,” Malfoy thought aloud, “I don’t remember them being particularly social.”

Harry raised his eyebrows and sighed. They had been waiting a while. He knocked at the door again, his fist thudding hard against the wood, and shouted through the door: “Aurors, please answer!”

Draco drummed his fingers against his thigh and looked around. He caught Harry’s eyes and they both simultaneously rolled them making them both laugh. With that, the door opened, and an elderly man greeted them.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you knocking from the room. Please, come on in.” He was stooped over, with long grey hair tied at the nape of his neck with a pale violet ribbon.

Draco and Harry followed him into the living room, where they stood as he sat. The room was, like the man in front of them, elegant in a kind of old-world style that can only be found in the most ancient of places; both regal and almost ethereal; with a very real sense of being from another realm, ageless and yet aged. There were centuries of magic here, it was tangible in the air like a mist surrounding their figures and as they moved, they could almost feel it dance around their skin. Harry had only ever had a feeling like this once before; and that was in the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts. Unlike the forest, however, the magic here didn't feel hostile yet though it was certainly almost sentient.

“How may I help you gentlemen?” He asked. His voice was soft, gentle, and hinted at lifetimes of wisdom.

Harry drew in a deep breath and spoke to the man earnestly, “We’re here investigating some fraudulent letters that have been found and we have reason to suspect that they have been distributed by a squib. We were wondering whether you have any squibs in the family at all, no matter how distant of a relative.”

Draco broke from Harry’s side and wandered around the living room as Harry and the old man spoke. He came across a very small portrait hidden away behind some books on a tall cabinet. He lifted it up and found that, unlike most wizarding portraits, it did not move. The three faces staring back at him were seemingly happy, but completely static in their stances. They looked like brothers, close in age, with the same kind of grace exhibited by the old man. He had a sudden feeling that he was looking at something that he shouldn’t be, and so paying mind to  _ Constant Vigilance _ , he returned the portrait and re-joined Harry’s side.

The old man caught Draco’s eye as he returned, but turned his attention back to Harry, “Well, like I say Mr Potter, we did have a squib but he died in an accident quite some time ago, and both of his sons are wizards.” Harry nodded and took some notes, then put his notepad away. The old man had been gesturing with his hands, and Draco found himself fascinated with the way they moved - as if there was no age there at all, no hint of hindrance as his long digits motioned through the air. His nails were long and looked sharp, a classic sign of not having to work with your hands, and therefore old, old money. 

“Well, that’ll be all then, sir. If you happen to notice anything or remember anything at a later date, don’t hesitate to get in touch with myself or Auror Malfoy here.” With a courteous nod, Harry and Malfoy left the house.

The rain had intensified somewhat, and as Draco held his arm out to side-along them back to the Ministry, a crack of thunder broke above them.

When they were back at the office, and a few heating charms had been cast, Draco sat at his desk with his feet atop the surface.

“What do we think then?” He fiddled with a piece of parchment, “Do we actually have any leads?”

Harry shook his head as he walked to the evidence board “There are two families that bother me the most,” he said, and pointed to the names on the board, “The Swinbourne’s and the Dresden’s.”

Draco sat upright in his seat and took his feet off the desk, “Why?”

“Well think about it: the families who have muggle borns in, or who don’t give a shit about blood purity or whatever are more likely to admit that there are squibs in the family. The older, more noble families wouldn’t – it’s just the way it goes.”

Draco nodded, “I hate to say it, but I agree,” he sighed, “Had there ever been a squib in my family my father would have covered it up, same in my mother’s family,” He sighed again, and groaned, “The Dresden guy admitted that there was a Squib however.” 

“Exactly, but he’s dead so there was no damage to the family by admitting that– if that makes sense. Did you get anything from your look around the Dresden place?” Harry asked.

“I don’t think so, it all looked fairly normal to me,” Draco shrugged, “There was a portrait that didn’t move that struck me, but it’s not unheard of for wizards to have normal paintings.”

Harry nodded, “Can we agree though, that those two families are the most suspect for now?”

Draco nodded, “Yeah, I can’t see why not,” he rose from his desk, checked his watch and pulled his cloak from the back of his chair, “I think we should call it a day and start afresh tomorrow.” With a brief glance to Harry, who was still facing the board and chewing a pencil, he left the office wondering what time Potter would get home.


	12. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They conduct an interview, and Malfoy heads on his date...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good Morning (and it's actually morning for once), I hope you're all doing well! Here is the next instalment of the fic, I hope you continue to enjoy it <3

Draco came into the office fully expecting to find Harry asleep at his desk, but instead was confronted with a remarkably well-presented Potter hanging up his cloak. His hair, while still messy, was slicked back with something, and his beard had been trimmed.

“I thought you wouldn’t have gone home last night,” Draco mused, “Glad to see you did though.”

Harry let out a sarcastic chuckle, “I wasn’t going to go home but Hermione came to the office and practically dragged me to her and Ron’s place. I didn’t have a choice.” He smiled and rolled his eyes playfully.

Draco draped his cloak over the back of his chair, and sat down with a sigh, “Do we still have interrogations today?” he asked, inspecting his nails as he spoke.

“Yeah. The Swinbourne’s and the Dresden’s are coming in as we recognise them as our main leads,” he pointed towards the board showing all their evidence, “The Dresden guy is in first. We’re on point for that one, but we’ll be supervised by Robards as usual.”

Draco nodded and checked his watch, “Coffee before we go in then?”

Harry raised his eyebrows and nodded approvingly, “I’ll take a tea, thanks.” He turned his attention back to the board and made notes, once again chewing his pencil.

As he came through the door, drinks in hand, Draco pulled out his notes on his desk, “What's the deal, before we go in?” Draco asked, “who's taking the lead between the two of us?” A slight smirk played at his lips, as if urging Harry into one of their characteristic competitions. Harry wasn't going to give in, though. 

“You,” he said and took a sip of his tea, “you know far more about how to deal with old pureblood families than I do, plus, I want to watch his reactions from afar.”

“Oh, well. Alright then,” Draco seemed almost disappointed that they weren't both going to compete for the lead, confusing the suspect into telling them everything, “you going for the strong silent type then?”

Harry nodded, “yeah, I want to really listen to this guy and see if I can find something to trip him up.” 

The ever-elegant and poised head of the Dresden family sat at their interrogation table; his face carefully arranged to reveal nothing to Aurors Potter and Malfoy. Harry stood in the corner, back to the wall, cup of tea in hand. Malfoy took a more usual approach - he sat directly opposite the man, with his notebook and quill, ready to begin. 

“Can you please state your name before we begin?” Draco asked, carefully shuffling through the paperwork in front of him. 

The man spoke, his voice as timeless and wise as when they first met him, “My name is Mattias Dresden.” 

Draco nodded and carried on, “and you know why you're here?”

“I have an inkling that it's about those letters you spoke to me about?” 

Once again, Draco nodded, “as you know Mr Dresden, we have reason to believe that the letters are being distributed by a squib; and that the distribution has been carried out with the expressed intention of breaking the statute of secrecy. I'm sure that you understand that we cannot have that happening.” 

“Well of course,” Mattias replied, “though I fail to see how my family could be involved.” 

“You have already admitted to having a squib in the family,” draco glanced through his notes of the previous meeting with Dresden, “so it is possible that there are more.” 

“As I last checked, Auror Malfoy, having a squib in the family isn't a criminal offence,” he looked at Draco with a sense of superiority that made Harry's blood boil “and as I told you, he died.” 

Draco smiled his best customer service smile, “and last I checked, Mr Dresden, people can lie about things.” 

Dresden huffed, “you're wildly out of order, Aurors, and as I'm not under arrest I shall be going.” 

“The square root of jack shit,” Harry all but shouted in their office as he slapped down his notes on his desk, “that's what today has given us,” he sighed and raked a hand over his face, “I’m sick of this,” they got ready to interview the Swinburne family head but both Harry and Draco had a feeling that they would have an equally frustrating encounter with them too. 

They had been correct, and went home for the evening with heavy hearts and weary heads. 

***

Franklin looked amazing, there was no doubt about that. Draco’s breath caught momentarily in his chest as he watched his date walk up to the restaurant. Franklin's slight swagger accentuated his broad shoulders and long legs; Draco found it almost impossible to not stare.

“Good to see you,” Franklin smiled easily as he greeted Draco, pausing with his hand on the door, ready to open it, “Shall we head in?”

Draco nodded, still not quite entirely convinced that he had managed to convincingly secure himself a date without some kind of ulterior motive. Everyone was too good for Draco these days, very few people wanted to associate with a Death Eater – reformed or not.

They were seated while Draco quietly mused, but was pulled from his thoughts by Franklin's dazzling smile. The restaurant, while charming, was eerily quiet, and somehow toed the line between too intimate for a first date and grossly impersonal. Draco felt uncomfortable. The whole event felt forced and false – the alarm bells were ringing for Draco, but he suppressed them in order to give it a chance. Harry's voice still swirled in his ears, however, ‘constant vigilance’ it said. 

“So, tell me something about yourself, Draco.”

Draco sighed, he surely already knew all of the important things about him – every one did, “What do you want to know?”

“Something that no one knows.” The waiter returned to the table and took their orders, Malfoy once more went inside himself to try and figure out what to say. He felt more on edge than he had done before.  _ Why does this feel like an interrogation? _ He asked himself.

“I…” he sighed, “I guess everyone already knows everything about me,” he shook his head slightly, “there’s not much that was left out of the media after everything.”

Franklin raised an eyebrow, “I guess that’s just an occupational hazard about being who you are.”

Draco agreed with a hum, trying to think of something to say, “What about you? Tell me about your delightful self.”

“Oh, there isn’t much interesting,” Franklin blushed, “I finished Hogwarts a few years before you so it was still fairly quiet,” he smirked at Draco with a teasing glint in his eyes, “We didn’t have Harry Potter always disrupting everything.”

“Oh I know how you feel there,” Draco smiled back, “Only after I finished Hogwarts and all that, he was still around and now he’s my bloody partner.”

“You lucky thing,” He looked nervously at Draco for a split second, “It must be amazing to work with  _ the  _ Harry Potter.”

Draco rolled his eyes, “You don’t know him like I do.”

“Do you not get intimidated by him? He scares the hell out of me, if I’m honest. Give me a dark dumbass any day.” Franklin chuckled. The light from the candle reflected in his eyes and for a second, just a second, Draco didn’t like what he saw. There was a glimmer of ambition – a hunger for something and a complete lack of care for who he stepped on along the way. He considered, briefly, that he may be nothing more than a pawn in Franklin's game.

“The only thing intimidating about Potter is his reputation. He’s really just an annoying jock, to tell you the truth; he’d much rather be in the gym or at the quidditch pitch than anywhere else. He basically runs off adrenaline sometimes.” He didn’t want to stress that Harry was also incredibly loyal, and willing to put up with a lot of bullshit. Of course, when he snapped, he snapped big time.

“Do you know what I think?” Franklin smiled and pulled Draco’s palm towards him as if to read it, “I think you admire him a lot more than you admit to.”

“I never said I didn’t admire him,” Malfoy defended himself, “admirable or not, he’s still an annoying jock.”

Franklin laughed a hollow laugh and dropped Malfoy’s hand, “Well I guess so.”

The conversation lulled as they ate, and Draco found himself wondering about what Harry was doing. He thought that he should probably turn his attention to Franklin, but honestly, he bored Draco and Harry didn’t. Was Harry embroiled in some mass wand fight? Or was he drawing the short straw and being put on patrol? After a moment of two of musing, Draco found himself worried about his partner.

“Excuse me for a moment.” He stood gracefully and took himself to the bathroom.

As he crossed the threshold into the bathroom, a wave of panic washed itself over him. Was Harry okay? The idea of his partner potentially being in a dangerous situation without him being there for backup got on his nerves. The point of being partners was to protect one another and while Harry was powerful, he did have a tendency to rush into things without thinking them through properly. 

He willed himself to calm down - there were other Aurors there with him to keep him safe should Harry perform his usual bullheaded act and run in head first. He reasoned that there was also nothing to suggest that Harry would be in for a busy night; he thought of the active cases that he could possibly end up assisting in, and realised that there was nothing particularly dangerous for once. A few deep breaths and a splash of cold water later, and Draco returned to Franklin, still not completely sure of his intentions. 

Harry sat in the office, alone, waiting for a call to come in. Emergency duty was the worst, but all Aurors had to do it whenever their name came up on the Rota. Harry had to be ready to apparate as soon as he could, or to floo somewhere on the drop of a hat, so he was in full uniform for the night. Robards patrolled the bull pen, making sure that all of the Aurors were up to par. He beckoned for Harry to come out of his office, and with a sigh, he heaved himself from his seat and trudged towards Robards.

“Got something for me to do?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, this just came through,” he handed Harry a memo, “a few of our patrols are caught in a rather nasty hostage situation so I’m sending you out there. Coordinates are on the memo, get yourself there.”

Harry nodded and made for the atrium, ready to apparate. As he walked, he wondered how Draco’s date was going, and felt a twinge of jealousy deep down. He shook his head, trying to clear them of his thoughts and to get himself in the correct headspace for what sounded like a fight. His wand arm was already tensed, a dangerous mix of magic and adrenaline coursing through his veins; his shoulders squared, brow furrowed. He was Auror Potter now – completely and utterly; ready for any situation, ready to take on the world. Even Harry admitted that his bull-headedness came in handy sometimes.

As he apparated into the wards surrounding the situation, he realised that Robards couldn’t have been more inaccurate in his assessment – it wasn’t a ‘rather nasty’ situation, it was over almost as soon as it had started. Apparently, the wand-happy suspect was told that Harry Potter was arriving as back up and had promptly surrendered. No doubt that the Daily Prophet would have something to say about this in the morning.

With a sigh, Harry felt the cool detachment of his Aurors training fade away and the relentless stress of being himself creeping back in. Ah, yes. There was the weight on his shoulders again.

As Harry sat in on the interview with the other Aurors he thought of Draco. How was the date going? Was Franklin making Draco laugh? Did Draco feel like he could let his guard down around him? Harry lost focus on the interrogation and spent it mostly in silence. What was Draco doing right now? Were his eyes crinkling with joy whenever Franklin spoke? Did he have hold of his hand over the table?

For a brief moment, Harry wondered if Malfoy was safe. He wasn’t overly familiar with Franklin (other than to ogle across the bullpen) and hoped that he wasn’t taking advantage of Malfoy.

As the interview came to an end, Harry got ready to go home. Sat in his office was a memo, folded neatly into a paper crane. Harry smiled softly as he opened it. The writing was rushed, the exact opposite of Draco’s usual elegant hand and the concern welling in the back of his mind grew slightly. He pushed it away; too tired to delve into its meaning.

**_How did E.D go? Let me know when you get back okay. Please._**

**-** **_D.L.M._ **

Harry scribbled a brief response and eventually apparated home. How sweet that Draco had been thinking about his safety, Harry thought to himself, if only he knew that Harry was also concerned for his.


	13. Progress?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do Harry and Draco have a breakthrough in the case? What will a simple request for coffee turn into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy! It's my day off, hence why this is uploaded at a reasonable time - I hope you're all having a wonderful day, and are carrying on staying safe in the wake of rising Covid numbers <3

“There’s just no leads,” Draco paced the office furiously, his cloak billowing as he turned, “Either everyone is denying having a squib in the family, or they just don’t have any.” He ran a hand through his hair, clearly more stressed about it than Harry was.

Harry sat at his desk, reading the morning’s news, “yeah, well we have bigger things to deal with now,” He said, and slapped the paper for emphasis, “The Prophet has caught wind of our slow investigation. Now it’s discussing the details of the case – though they’re false of course – and it’s going to screw us over.”

Malfoy groaned, “oh, of course. The Prophet will be the end of the wizarding world, of that I'm sure,” he sunk down onto his chair with a huff, and crossed his arms. 

Harry scoffed, and looked at the case file, “we've got nothing. We have exactly nothing.” 

“If the Ministry would just admit that squibs are still part of the magical community and can still work with us, then we wouldn't have this issue. We'd know where the squibs are and then we'd be done.” Draco ranted, and took a deep breath. 

They sat in silence, thinking for quite some time. The clock ticked by on the shelf; the department sped by outside the office, with Aurors running around desperately; but in the office, there was nothing. Silence. 

Harry all of a sudden leaned forward on his desk, “if you had to put money on who did it, who would it be?” 

Draco twiddled a quill between his fingers, and then walked over to the evidence board, “either the Swinbourne’s - they're just generally shifty and downright rude - or the Dresden guy. Or someone related to the Dresden guy, he seems to admit little tidbits here and there but then seems to hide other things,” he turned to face Harry and sighed, “plus he just generally creeps me out.” 

“Do you have any other hunches than he's creepy?” 

Malfoy paused for a moment, “I have one… can you grab me a pensieve?” 

Harry rummaged around on the shelf for their portable pensieve while Draco drew the memory out with his wand. Harry settled the small bowl on Draco's desk, and stood back. Malfoy dipped his head into the bowl, and a short while later looked at Harry. 

“I think I've seen something,” he nodded toward the bowl, “take a look,” 

Harry followed suit, and was soon standing once more in Mattias Dresden's drawing room. He saw Malfoy standing over in the corner, near a tall cabinet and wandered over to see what he was doing. He looked at the small portrait in his hands but couldn't see what was so revealing to Malfoy - the portrait didn't move but so what? He stood closer and really looked at the portrait. 

Three boys looked back at him, all the same age, and identical. Two of the boys held letters and had wands drawn to their sides, their smiles were huge and their happiness was palpable. The boy in the middle, however, held no letter and had no wand in his hand. He had his arms around the other two, but no smile breached his elegant face. 

As the mist lifted and he once more joined Malfoy in their office, “what… what?” He muttered, “so, you think those boys are the culprits?” 

Draco nodded, “something like that, yes. Remember that the reason we had the Dresden name as a possible starting point was because of the twins that went to Hogwarts,” he explained, “what if there was a third - a triplet - who couldn't do magic?” 

Harry raised his eyebrows, and scratched his head, “can that happen?” 

Draco shrugged, “no idea but it's something that I think we should look into. Why else would the portrait be hidden unless Mattias knew it was a clue of some kind?” 

“Maybe it was just a shit portrait?” Harry chuckled, “no but I agree it's worth looking into,” he finished, and then searched for his cloak ready to go to the DMLE library. 

“We should also put in a request to talk to the Dresden twins,” Malfoy continued, ignoring Harry's remark, “see what they have to say for themselves,” he swung his cloak around him, smiled cheekily at Harry and then strode out of the office. 

***

They had carried as many books back to their office as their muscles and their magic would allow them. Their office was, once more, a mess; books piled high on their desks and on the floor, but they felt like they might be getting somewhere. 

Draco sat back in his chair and stretched, “Merlin, Potter, I’m exhausted,” he rested his hands on the back of his head, “Coffee break?”

Harry ignored him.

Draco threw a stray piece of parchment at him, as was his new favourite way of getting Harry’s attention, and cleared his throat, “Harry. Coffee. Now.”

Potter didn’t look up, but agreed and finished part of the research he was working on, “Where are we going then?” he asked.

Malfoy huffed, “I kind of fancy going to that muggle place we went to the other week.”

Harry nodded. They chose to forego their cloaks and instead pulled on their regulation jumpers; they didn’t stick out as much in the muggle world then.

It was fairly cool outside, the hint of rain threatening to soak them from behind the clouds. Harry pulled the cuffs of his jumper over his hands as they walked to the coffee shop, Draco drew in a sharp breath and cast a hushed warming charm over the both of them. Harry sighed as the heat spread through him, taking the edge off the chill.

This cafe was still Harry’s favourite, but was fast becoming Draco’s favourite too. As they entered the shop the girl behind the counter greeted them with a warm smile.

“Do you gents know what you want, or do you need a second or two to look over the menu?” She spoke mainly to Draco, which Harry noticed happened when they went out in muggle areas. He didn’t mind, if anything it was a welcome change from being fawned over. The room was wonderfully warm, a delightful contrast to the rain that had begun to fall outside.

“I’ll have a good strong Assam today, my dear, and Potty here will have….” He looked to Harry with a wicked smile, and gestured to the menu.

“I’ll have an Americano please,” Harry muttered, “Don’t leave room for milk, thanks.” Harry shoved some muggle money into Draco’s outstretched hand and then worked his way to a table near the window and sat in the chair against the wall. He leaned back, rested his head against the exposed brick and sighed. He closed his eyes for a minute or two and only opened them when Draco put his drink in front of him. The smell of his coffee filled his nostrils and he took a moment to savour it. It was infinitely better than what they served at the Ministry: Harry would have this brew on tap if he could.

“You okay?” Malfoy asked, the concern in his voice permeating the silence. He raised an eyebrow as he lifted the lid off his teapot, inhaling the deep, malty scent of Assam. He sighed contentedly.

Harry sat up straighter, and clasped the hot mug in front of him, “I’m fine.” Harry said. As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew that Draco would pick up on the edge to his voice. He regretted even trying to trick him in the first place.

Draco raised his eyebrow in response and leaned forwards, “Harry…” he prompted and looked at him intently, “Tell me what’s bothering you. That is what friends are for after all.” He considered covering Harry’s hand with his own, but decided against it. They had forged a friendship out of necessity and Draco was in no mood to push the boundaries.

Harry sighed, “I’m… How do I put this?” He considered, “I’m just lonely, I think.”

Draco nodded, and poured the dark tea into his teacup, “You’re surrounded by people who care, Potty,” Draco smiled, and spoke gently, “The Weasleys adore you, you have some really concrete friends that have literally been with you through the worst times in your life. They’re all there for you.”

Harry nodded, and bit his lip awkwardly, “That’s not the kind of lonely I mean,” He glanced up at Draco for a moment, “I just-- oh this is embarrassing. I just want someone to hold. I get home and I’m alone; we work so much that I don’t have time to make meaningful relationships and it’s getting to me.” Harry maintained his eye contact with the surface of the table.

“I get it, Harry,” Draco mumbled, “I sometimes feel like all I have in my life is work. I know I have Blaise and Pans; and now the Gryffindor posse, but it’s when I’m home that I feel  _ unsatisfied _ .” His voice broke but he didn’t really mind, Harry had seen him at his worst after all.

Harry nodded, “It’s like I just want someone there. Some warmth, some kind of affection.”

“Merlin, look at us. A pair of touch starved Aurors.” Draco chuckled. He sipped his tea and sighed appreciatively. He could feel the restoring properties of a good cup of tea working through him.

Harry nodded glumly and took a mouthful of his coffee. The shop was fairly empty, they were joined only by a young couple, who were engrossed in each other in the far corner of the seating area. Draco glanced at them and sighed.

“Young love, eh?” he reminisced to himself about his awkward fumbles with Pansy in the Slytherin common room when no one was looking, it made him grimace.

“I suppose we’re still young,” Harry said, “We have time for young love, I guess.”

“It’s not the same though, is it?” Draco asked, “When we were young there was… well…  _ everything _ … going on. We didn’t have time to be kids. We didn’t get to be free or to obsess over making every second of our lives about someone else like they do.”

“Yeah, that’s true. The only relationship I’ve ever really had was in school,” Harry admitted, “and even then, it was quite forced,” he cleared his throat when Draco looked at him for an explanation, “I just mean that it was what was expected of me, right? Save the world, marry Ginny, have kids, be a role model. You know? Not one priority for me growing up was to be a kid, or to be happy.” Harry sighed.

“What would have made you happy?” Draco asked, “I mean, say you still had to defeat you-know-who, what could possibly have made you happy?”

“Well… I’ve never really thought about that. I don’t see the point, it’s all done.”

Draco nodded, “What would make you happy now?” The girl who served them came over and asked if she could get them anything. Draco requested some pastries, the conversation lulled as she nodded and smiled dazzlingly at Draco.

Harry shrugged, “I don’t know. A relationship wouldn’t really work right now, I’m too busy. I think I just need someone to take my frustrations out on every once in a while.” he chuckled darkly. It made Draco blush.

“Yeah, I feel you there,” Malfoy smiled a nefarious smile and continued, “It has been a while to say the least.”

“What about Franklin?” Harry asked with a wicked look in his eyes.

“No, that never had a chance of working out. We just went on a few dates but he lost interest.” Draco explained.

“How on earth could he lose interest?” Harry said before he could stop himself.

Draco stopped for a moment, Harry’s comment had caught him off guard, “What do you mean?”

“Well…  _ objectively speaking _ : you’re an attractive man -- don’t look at me like that -- and you’re not that much of a dick anymore. I just can’t imagine - stop laughing, ferret face - I just can’t imagine how someone could lose interest.” Harry smiled, and watched as Malfoys chuckles turned into a full laugh. Had Harry really just admitted that he found Draco attractive?

Draco suppressed his laughter, and grinned at Harry, “Well… he did. I don’t think I was really his type, anyway.”

“Oh?” Harry asked.

“I think he was more interested in a certain powerful, dark haired, quick witted, bearded Saviour than little ol’ me. I’ll be honest, it was awkward and I had bad vibes anyway.” Draco winked, his voice teasing Harry.

Harry blushed, “Aw, you think I’m powerful?” He teased back. He didn’t touch on Draco’s dark tone at the end.

“Shut up, Potty, you know you are. You can’t defeat you-know-who if you aren’t. Besides, we did train together, I know your magic pretty well.” As Draco said this, Harry cast a wandless muffliato around them, seeing as how Draco was so brazenly discussing their world.

“I concede your point,” Harry sighed, “What about you?”

“What do you mean?” Draco asked, sipping his tea and smiling at the girl who served them as she brought over their freshly baked pastries.

“Are you looking for someone to just take your frustrations out on every now and again?” Harry asked. He took a chocolate pastry off the platter in front of them and relished the touch of warm, sweet pastry. It made his mouth water.

“Why, are you offering?” Draco quipped with a wry smile. He plucked at a pastry and glanced at Harry with a gaze that could only be described as flirty.

Harry choked on his mouthful of pain au chocolat, he hadn’t expected that, “Erm… what? Huh?” he stuttered.

Draco smiled, “Well, I’m not saying no…”

They settled into a charged silence as they finished their drinks and food before leaving. When they stepped out into the cold, Draco still sported a grin that made his eyes dance. It sent Harry’s head spinning; he wasn’t really sure of what to make of this. 


	14. Boundaries?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well... that escalated quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Afternoon folks! I'm sure you've been waiting for this, so enjoy it! <3

It had been a busy day but they had made some good progress: the library had been relatively quiet and the Librarian actually chose to help them for once. Harry wanted nothing more than to head back to Grimmauld Place and relax, so he had declined Ron’s offer of chess and dinner to slouch on the settee in the living room eating junk food and reading cheesy muggle books. He had lit a large fire in the grate, it bathed the room in a warm orange glow; the heavy curtains had been drawn, closing off the outside world and for a moment - just a moment - Harry felt something close to serenity. The wireless hummed quietly in the corner, barely audible over the sound of the fire crackling but just loud enough to make the house seem less empty. Harry put his book down with a sigh and leaned his head back, eyes closed. He sat for a moment, clearing his mind of his thoughts and disorganised fuzz that gathered during the day, most of all trying to forget Draco's implied offer of casual sex. 

_ “You know… this has been my fantasy for so long,” his silky voice whispered in Harry’s ear, “It’s been so very…  _ hard _ … not acting on it.” he groaned and pressed his groin into Harry’s thigh to emphasise his point. A moan escaped Harry’s lips; it was filthy, full of lust and sin. It was too hard to resist. _

_ A shiver crept down Harry’s spine as his companion licked his tanned neck. He wound his arms around the person, his fingers tracing over the deft muscles and thin shirt. It felt like the finest cotton he had ever experienced, just damp with the first hints of sweat; Harry felt like this encounter would get even sweatier as it went on. His fingers found his way into the person's hair, tangling through it and pulling hard. His companion let out a throaty laugh, it sent thoughts running over Harry’s mind about what that throat would feel like. _

_ “God, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” the mystery voice purred into his chest as he kissed his way down, “How on earth am I allowed to touch all of this?” He trailed his hands over Harry’s shoulders, pausing on his biceps for a second. Though Harry still could not see the face of the person touching him, the glint of a silver signet ring caught his eye. He was sure that he had never seen it before. _

_ The deft hands that caressed him all over soon began to unbutton Harry’s shirt; the feeling of hot skin on skin sent Harry’s heart hammering through his chest, it was almost too much. With a frenzied pace, the mystery man had stripped them both so that they were in just their underwear, intertwined on a luxurious bed. Harry kissed his companion deeply, pulling his hair and desperately trying to coax him onto his lap. _

Harry woke up suddenly. The blanket he had been under had fallen to the floor and the fire had died down. He was still fully clothed in his work uniform, only now there was a damp patch in his trousers. A wet dream? Really? He chuckled pityingly at himself and cast a scourgify over his crotch. With a groan, he heaved himself up to head to his bedroom.

Halfway up the stairs, he remembered his dream. A blush crept to his cheeks as he remembered how sensual it had felt. Not necessarily the most explicit dream that he had ever had, but it had captivated his senses in a way that made him feel like he was missing something now he was awake. His skin felt cold in the spots where his dream lover had touched him, and he had goosebumps despite being fully clothed.

As Harry sank into his bed, butterflies filled his stomach. He traced his hands over the spots where his dream lover had caressed him and closed his eyes, silently wishing that he could resume his dream where it left off; hoping that he could be with the mystery companion again. 

***

“Draco…” Harry looked across to Malfoys desk to see him face first in the newspaper, “hey… ferret face!” Harry threw a piece of crumpled parchment at him to get his attention. 

Draco looked up, a smirk and a raised eyebrow pointed in Harry's direction, “that’s only funny when I do it,” he leant back and out his feet on his desk, boots firmly removed and chucked somewhere on the floor, “what's up Potty?”

Harry took a deep breath to steady himself before crossing the line, “If I ask you something will you give me an honest answer?”

Malfoy looked intrigued, “yes, I don't see why not.” 

Harry sighed, not quite able to believe that he was going to ask this, “did you mean what you said the other day…?” Harry didn't specify what Draco had asked him, and left his question to linger, loaded and needy, in the air between them. The room changed, the energy between them had already transformed into something entirely different; charged and eager. 

Draco licked his lips, something that Harry always had liked the look of, and leaned forward in his chair, “yes,” his voice was low as if he wasn't sure where Harry was going with the conversation - or was sure and wanted to make sure Harry was on the same page. Either way it was inebriating. 

Harry swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, “do you even know what I'm talking about, here?”

Draco smiled darkly at Harry, stood out of his chair and walked silently across to Harry, who looked up at Malfoy's face now towering over him, “yes,” he brought his hand up to Harry's face and caressed his jaw, pulling Harry to his feet in the process, “are you wanting to try, Potty?” His voice sent shivers down Harry's spine; low and confident, it was clear that Malfoy was going to make all the moves. 

Harry, overwhelmed by the sudden breach of boundaries that, admittedly, he had instigated, simply nodded. 

“It’s just physical,” Draco whispered, “nothing else?” his lips were so close to Harry's, so close to his goal, to his want. 

Harry just nodded again, at this point totally lost for words. 

Within the blink of an eye, Draco's lips crashed against his, taking Harry's breath away in a way that he'd never experienced before. Draco's lips were soft, and gentle, but eager. Needy. Harry's hand reached up and he ran his fingers through Malfoy's hair, his fingers twisting through the silky strands and pulling gently. They stood close, their bodies pressed together as if they had both wanted this for so long.  _ Had  _ they both wanted this for so long? He could smell Malfoy’s aftershave, something that seemed so grossly intimate in the moment, and he realised that it made his heart beat faster, made his mouth water at the thought of smelling it on himself after the fact. 

He felt Malfoys fingers twist into his own shirt, reaching to fiddle with the buttons down the middle. Harry let out a moan, it had been so long since he had  _ really  _ wanted it, at least this much; Malfoys fingers lingered over the buttons, wanting to go further but hesitating. Dracos lips moved to Harry's neck, his breath ghosting Harry’s skin, small and sweet kisses travelling across him. 

Harry knew what Malfoy was thinking, “Not here,” he whispered, answering Malfoys internal dilemma, “after work, your place,”

Malfoy caught his breath and cleared his throat, “Good idea, Potty… we’ll have far more time on our hands,” his voice was low and croaky, despite clearing his throat. Harry’s breath caught at the idea that it was him that had done that to someone who was usually so reserved. Draco rested his forehead on Harry's before he winked and strode back over to his desk as Harry buttoned his shirt back up. He relished the fact that he had been correct, and he could smell Malfoys aftershave on his own skin. 

The rest of the day passed at a snail's pace with stolen glances across the office at every opportunity, but as soon as they could leave without repercussions, they did. Within mere moments they had apparated into Draco's flat and were once again crashing together with enough force to make them both unbalanced. They held each other everywhere all at once, their hands exploring previously unchartered territory, a frenzy of pent up desire that led them directly to the bedroom. They shed their clothes along the way, their shirts strewn across Draco's flat, and their uniforms discarded in a heap.

Draco broke the kiss, “wait, wait, wait, Potty,” he breathed, his breath faltering with every syllable, “are you sure?” he had just his trousers left on, Harry had even less.

Harry almost rolled his eyes, “if you don't have me face down in that mattress in the next five minutes, I'll have you that way for the rest of the night,” he sounded more confident than he felt. He had the slightest worry in the back of his mind that like everything between them both, there would be too much emotion, too much history, too much of everything. He had worries, barely traceable, that this would be a mistake. 

But Draco's hands responded to Harry's taunt, pushing him back onto the bed, with the promise of a debauched night ahead of them. They both froze slightly when they were fully naked in each other's presence for the first time, there was something incredibly familiar yet alien to the sensation. They had seen each other in the showers several times at work, but there was a completely different meaning now. Seeing and touching are very different things - boundaries between friendship and something more had been well and truly demolished. 

Their frenzy slowed, the kisses became slightly more tender and the desperate grabbing of flesh turned to gentle caresses. With an open palm, the bedside table drawer opened and a small glass bottle of blue lubricant flew into Draco's fingers. 

“Get your face into that mattress then, Golden Boy,” Malfoy made a show of leaning back from his embrace of Harry and uncorking the bottle. He was, maybe for the first time, now acutely aware of both how hard he was and how attractive Harry was.

He watched in disbelief as Harry obeyed his order, raising his hips into the air and looking over his shoulder right back at Draco, who found himself having to steady his breath at the sight. He  _ has _ thought about this before, he admitted to himself, and it was every bit as delicious as he had thought it would be. He stayed there for a split second, stroking himself, before Harry began to whine. 

“Come on, Draco, are you going to ruin me or not?” 

He acted swiftly, lubing himself up and casting the necessary spells to get Harry stretched and ready, “well, I was going to be a gentleman about it, but you’ve gone and done it now…” he said as Harry reacted to the spells he had used. Harry let a small gasp escape his lips, admitting to himself that he didn’t ever want Draco to ‘be a gentleman about it’, nor would he ever be so gentle with Draco. 

He grabbed Potter by the hips, and thrust himself inside him. The sensation hit him like a tonne of bricks, but instead of allowing himself a moment to adjust, he carried on mercilessly thrusting into Harry. He came undone under Draco's touch, his shoulders went limp, his hair splayed around his head like some kind of halo, and Draco’s name fell from his lips in a salacious prayer. 

It was intoxicating. 


	15. Progress.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pansy is worried, and the boys make a break in the case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good Morning all! As usual, I hope you enjoy this chapter <3 
> 
> Don't forget to check out the playlist to the fic here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7zwSW4S80YP35idD1R5Xjg?si=-ViVX7moTbqLyf-7dODJIQ

Once again during this case, Draco found himself in one of those glorious magic restoring bubble baths; only this time Pansy joined him in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet lid staring furiously at Draco. Through the glass shower screen and the bubbles of the bath, there was no chance of Pansy catching a glimpse of anything, but then again, those awkward fumbles in the Slytherin common room proved that neither of them were really attracted to the other - so what did it matter? 

“I know you like him, Draco, its been glaringly fucking obvious since fifth year,” Pansy took a deep sip of her wine, “I'm just begging you to be careful, fucking saviour or not, he could break you,” the last part came out in a whisper, the concern that she felt for her best friend tangible in the way she implored him. 

“I think I know him pretty well by now, Pans,” Draco reasoned, “for all of his faults he's grown up a lot.” 

Pansy crossed her legs, wine glass in one hand, the other on her hip; despite being sat down, she looked startlingly like his mother when he was being scolded, “he's got a short temper, basically no fuse; he's bullheaded and doesn't think things through. He has no concern for other people once he is rallied behind a cause that he thinks is right and he doesn't care who he brings down in the fray. He blindly trusts people without always asking why, and nearly always realises his mistakes too goddamn late,” There was a pleading in her eyes that Draco understood, but chose to ignore. Despite what Pansy said, Draco knew Harry and knew what his attitude was actually like on a day to day basis. 

Draco took his towel and wrapped it around himself, rising elegantly out of the water. He picked up his wine glass and walked over to Pansy putting his hands on her shoulders, smoothing down her arms in an effort to soothe her, “I know what you're saying, Pans, but he's also incredibly trustworthy, and furiously loyal to his word. If he says it's just sex, no emotions and no strings, why shouldn't I believe him?” 

“He's a  _ Gryffindor, _ ” Pansy groaned, “when have they ever done anything without letting their emotions get involved?!” 

Draco was unwilling to admit to himself that she had a point; Gryffindors are notoriously governed by their emotions, “I trust him, Pans,” Draco shrugged, trying to implore her with his eyes to not push the subject. 

She rolled her eyes and followed Draco through to his bedroom suite, where he put his pyjamas on and lit the fire. She slumped on the sofa and sighed, “I just worry about you Draco,” she took a desperate sip of her wine, “you’re my dearest friend and if you get hurt I couldn't live with myself for not preventing it,” 

“Come on Pans,” Draco said, “I'm not going to get hurt… not by Harry at least,” Pansy hadn't originally agreed with Draco taking the Ministry’s offer of joining the DMLE as part of his punishment, but they both understood that his knowledge of the wizarding underworld would change the society as they knew it. Any time he made a quip or a complaint about work, he could feel the resentment resonating from Pansy.

“Have you seen this week's Witch Weekly?” She asked, her face spelling out all that Draco needed to know - he was probably going to lose this argument. 

“I have not,” he sighed, “what are they peddling this time?” 

She stared at him, “oh, you know… just a four page spread on the most eligible bachelor in the entire wizarding world, and the most desirable matches for him. They follow him everywhere, they know who he associates with, who his friends are, what he fucking had for breakfast,” she gestured wildly with her hands, as if swatting away wrackspurts, her long manicured nails clicking against themselves. 

“And your point is?” Draco sighed, getting a little bit tired of Pansy’s rant. 

“If you are seriously pursuing this, then you need to be careful. Everyone knows everything about him, everything knows everything about Weasley, and Granger… and you,” she added that pointedly, and Draco knew what she was getting at, “every piece of media will tear you to pieces - both of you - if they catch wind of it.” 

She had moved to kneel down in front of him as he sat on the edge of his bed, her eyes large and round as she pleaded with him to reconsider. 

Draco smirked, “then they won't catch wind of it my dear,” he kissed her forehead, “Anyway, enough about me,” Draco waved his hand as if to dismiss the earlier conversation, “how's your love life?” 

Pansy sighed, “things are still complicated,” she shrugged, “Blaise isn't seeing anyone and neither am I,” Draco moved so Pansy could sit next to him and he stroked her feet as she spoke. 

“What's on the cards? Are you guys heading towards being together or not?” 

“It’s odd. Neither of us are seeing people because it seems weird, but then we never seem to cross the boundary between us both,” she chewed her lip, a classic sign that she was unsure about something. 

“Maybe you just need to get drunk and cross them, just to see what happens,” Draco suggested, “it can't hurt, it's not like anything will change if you only cross it once,” 

She shrugged, and stayed quiet. Lilly brought them some tea, a nice big pot for them both to share. They spent the evening like this, drinking tea when the wine ran out in front of the fire and gossiping about their lives. 

***

Harry inspected a gilded invitation that had landed on his desk when Draco came into the office with a triumphant smile on his face, waving yet another Hogwarts letter, “it’s nearly bloody Christmas,” he cried, “and there's another letter that's come into our office,” he waved the paper around, “what  _ is _ this idiot doing?” 

Harry laughed, “I'm going to buy this guy a calendar when we find him… he clearly doesn't know what fucking month it is,” he leaned forwards on his desk and watched Draco appreciatively as he performed the same investigatory spells that he had performed on the others. He tried to tell himself that he was simply watching his partner do work, but he was looking at so much more. His own desk was strewn with notes from their intense research on the matter of squibs within magical siblings. 

Draco hummed as he worked, leaning with one hand on the table top, the other balancing his wand, “how strange…” 

Hearing the intrigue in Draco's voice, Harry went over to stand by his side, “what are you hmmmm-ing at?” their voices quietened, speaking low to each other in the intimate way that only lovers do. 

“There's a new strand on the letter,” Draco showed Harry the deep purple line now emanating from the parchment, “see? It will tell me the wand that is associated with it, but no more.” 

“And that wand is?” 

“Ash and Dragon Heartstring, 14 inches,” he tapped his chin as he thought, “doesn't tell me who owns it though,” 

“Well… that's a fun tidbit of information,” Harry snuck his hand up Malfoys back, “but it doesn't tell us much, does it?”

Malfoy turned his head toward Harry, and sighed, “come on Potty,” his eyes burned into Harry's and he licked his lips, “later… we have work to get done,” he squeezed Potters hand and dropped it next to his side. They were still so close though, their thighs touching. Just the warmth from Harry's leg on his was enough to make Draco's heart rate quicken. He took a deep breath, and with all the restraint he could muster, he stepped away to avoid Harry's contact. Their agreement of not bringing pleasure to work was getting harder and harder to honour.

“Do you still have a decent relationship with Ollivander?” Draco asked once he had sufficiently got his professionalism in check and Harry had gone back to his own desk. 

“Yeah, want me to owl him about the wand?” 

Draco nodded, once more looking at the latest letter. 

Harry got to work on writing to Ollivander, and Draco sighed. Harry chanced a glance at Draco, who appeared to be deep in thought over the yellowed paper; he was biting his thumb and his brow was furrowed, Harry had to stop himself from going over to his desk and kissing him senseless. He found himself imagining taking Draco on the desk right there, but had to stop himself before there were consequences to his daydreams - they had after all agreed to not do anything at work, though putting that into practice was difficult; indeed they spent more time together at Draco's flat than anywhere else. Any time Harry glanced at him he remembered seeing Draco naked and panting, covered in a sheen of sweat on his expensive sheets.

There was a knock at the door, it was Anderson, “the twins are in the interrogation room for you,” he commented, “get round to it whenever, they were bastards to the Aurors that brought them in so I don't really care how long they wait,” he shrugged and closed the door once more. 

Draco looked at Harry, who was sure that he was blushing, and smirked, “shall we get to it then, Potty?” He looked Harry up and down, and rolled his eyes playfully. 

Harry followed him out the door, ready to play the silent type again. It could come in handy, he found that he could be quite intimidating if he put his mind to it. 

Much to their surprise, Mattias Dresden accompanied the twins to their interview. This immediately sent alarm bells ringing for both Harry and Draco, who suspected, but now knew, that Mattias was involved in some way with the frauds. They communicated this in a simple look, and Harry once again found himself amused by how quickly they had picked up on each other's body language. 

“Mr Dresden,” Draco sighed, “is there a particular reason that you're here today? We only requested that the twins come in for questioning,” he sat down at the table, putting his files down with a slap. 

“I felt it only appropriate to accompany my family, Auror Malfoy,” his voice was steady and calculated, as Harry had noticed it had been the last time they had spoken. 

Harry wanted to unnerve him into admitting something that he didn't want to. This is why he stayed silent, to observe, and to think. 

Malfoy began his questioning, Harry kept on watching. Neither Mattias nor the twins were giving anything away, there was no new information, and very little evidence to tie anyone to the letters. The twins sat, side by side, with the most neutral expressions possible, both looking like status. Only if Harry looked close enough could he see the slightest movements from their breathing. Weird. They gave Harry the creeps, but Mattias’ presence was hard to ignore. He was clearly the one pulling the strings in the family. 

Harry took a deep breath while Mattias was monologuing about having the Dresden name sullied with being dragged into the DMLE so much, “Mr Dresden, what wand do you carry?” 

He abruptly stopped his speech, taken aback by Harry finally speaking, “why is this relevant?” He asked, looking down his nose at Harry. 

“Just curious,” he said, and joined them at the table, no longer stood in the shadows, “besides, it's a simple enough question. If you don't want to answer I'll just go to whoever checked you into the ministry today,” he continued to stare at Mattias, and the twins stayed silent. 

Mr Dresden appeared to mull things over for a brief few seconds, “Ash and dragon heartstring,” he appeared smug, “are you  _ quite _ satisfied now, Auror Potter?” 

“Very, thank you,” Harry flicked through some of the paperwork in front of Draco and waved towards the twins, “you two may as well go, check in with the Aurors who brought you in on your way out,” Mattias eyed Harry suspiciously as the twins rose gracefully and in unison to leave, “so, Mr Dresden, are you going to start being honest with us now?” Malfoy enjoyed watching Harry take charge of an interrogation, it was amusing how some people forgot who they were talking to until he decided to speak up; there was nearly always an element of surprise. Draco decided to try to not think about Harry taking charge in  _ other  _ situations, as tempting as it was.

Mattias remained calm, but Harry could sense that there was some deep disturbance below his carefully maintained mask, “what are you suggesting?” He asked, his voice still steady. 

Malfoy spoke before Harry could, “we have your wands signature on one of the letters we received,” he showed the letter to Mattias and there was perhaps the slightest flicker of recognition in his eyes, “so, we know that you're involved somehow, if you could just tell us everything then we can all be on our way,” 

Mr Dresden hesitated for a brief moment, “I haven't been sending them out,” he spoke carefully, “but I may have an idea of who has been,” 

“Would you be willing to help us then, Mr Dresden? It would help clear the Dresden name after all, and we can stop all of this nonsense,” Draco smiled at Mattias, who nodded gravely. 


	16. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry satisfies his curiosity, and gets an unexpected visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hi! First of all - shout out to Mandyana and Whatever_her_name_is for both commenting things that were coming up in the next chapter... y'all must have a direct line to my head or something. Or maybe I'm predictable? 
> 
> Second of all - Thank you all for your support and love, I've been floored by how quickly we've got to over 2000 hits and 100 kudos.. wa totally not expecting that <3

Draco had left the office hours earlier after the interview, but Harry wanted to follow up on Dresden’s leads to make sure that they were credible. It had been supremely difficult to tell Draco that he was going to stay at the office rather than head back to his place but for once he had to satisfy his curiosity. Several things had perplexed Harry - why was Mattias’ magical signature on the letter? Why all of a sudden did he want to help? Was there a bigger picture here? Was Draco naked yet? He shook the last thought from his head, but it still lingered in the back of his mind. 

The letter laid at the centre of his desk, which was littered with reminders to do things: reply to the blasted invitation, arrange another night out, solve the damn case. A half full cup of tea that was probably cold sat unbothered on the desktop, all but forgotten as Harry tried his hardest to concentrate on not thinking about apparating straight back to Dracos then and there. 

As Harry sat musing, he pulled out the letter that had the magical signature on it and cast the same spells that Draco had previously. The same results showed. He thought about what Dresden had said; that he hadn’t been sending the letters out but he knew who had. His mind went into overdrive. He picked up a piece of parchment fresh from the bottom drawer of his desk and performed the same spells - sure enough his own signature was on there despite the parchment being unused. 

He stared at the parchment, thinking. How had his own signature got onto parchment he’d never used? Could this be the case with Dresden? 

He glanced over Draco’s desk, out of the windows, and saw a commotion outside. It seemed more of a commotion than usual, he wondered briefly if there was a particularly big active case going on that had perhaps just come to its conclusion in the bullpen. That would be a good feeling, he was sure. If they could ever figure this case out, he may get to feel it again. 

Back to his own signature. He vaguely remembered levitating the parchment into the drawer months ago. He wondered if that was how Dresden’s signature got on the letter. Was the parchment the dregs of whatever the culprit had access to? Had they lifted the parchment from Dresden when he saw them? 

Harry was on the cusp of realising that there were a million ways a signature could get on the parchment when his office door was flung open. 

“Harry James Potter!” The unmistakable voice of Pansy Parkinson rang through the office. Ah… the commotion had arrived at his office. The commotion no doubt caused by her rather revealing, but incredible outfit that was entirely out of place in the DMLE. 

“Miss Parkinson,” Harry sighed, “How can I help?” 

“I think it’s way beyond help at this point, Potter,” she spat. She stood, arms crossed, high heel tapping on the floor, in front of Dracos desk.

Harry stood up from his desk, put his wand on the side, and leaned on the very edge of his own desk, mirroring Pansy’s posture, “Okay then Parkinson, spit it out and be done with it.”

She glared at him - truly, if it were possible for a death glare to be fatal, he’d be dead and buried within mere seconds. Not knowing what to do, he simply glared back. 

They stood in silence for a few moments before Pansy’s blood red lips parted, “what on earth do you think you’re doing with Draco?” Her voice was steady, but dripping with fury. He had to be careful here. 

Of course it would be about Draco. He should’ve known that this wouldn’t be about his unpaid tab at the club, “So I’m guessing that Draco has told you what’s going on?” 

Pansy huffed, “Of course. He’s my best friend, we tell each other everything.” 

Harry nodded, “then you know exactly what I think I’m doing with Draco… unless you want specifics? If so, I wouldn’t sit on his sofa for a while.” He smiled. Pushing the buttons of angry Slytherins had been his bread and butter for so many years - Pansy wasn’t going to have this easily. 

She clenched her jaw, and took a deep breath and Harry knew he was in for it, “I mean, you ignorant little gryffindor,” she stepped forward and jabbed him in the chest, “what. are. your. intentions?” she spat, punctuating each word with yet another jab from her long red acrylic nails. 

Harry removed her hand from his and drew himself up to his full height, “If you touch me again, Miss Parkinson, I’m going to have you forcibly removed from the DMLE for threatening and assaulting an Auror,” He smiled sweetly, “and wouldn’t that hurt business?” He put his hands in his pockets, “Now, as for my intentions - ask Draco. Because that’s what my intentions are: To. Get. Laid. We have an agreement and neither one of us want to break that,” He put a finger up to silence Pansy before she unleashed something that Harry really didn’t want to hear, “Quite frankly, whatever  _ activities  _ Draco and I get up to  _ is  _ between Draco and I, and unless you want to very literally get in the middle of us, it’ll never concern you. Okay?” He turned his back to her and sat back at his desk. 

She stood, maybe speechless, with her arms now hanging limply by her side. It seemed that most of her steam had dissipated. Harry grinned to himself. He had to admire Pansy’s fire, he’d always appreciated that on nights out at the club. Her tenacity made her a good friend, he was sure. 

Eventually she moved over to Harry's desk, boobs at his eye level, and leaned over so her elbows were balanced on the desktop, and her rather generous behind jutted out toward the window. If Harry had the inclination to look out the window, he’d see several young Aurors practically drooling. 

“Well Potter, you’ve shown your hand, so let me show you mine.” 

“Pansy, that’s not your hand you're showing me, and - full offence - I’ve seen better.” 

Pansy smiled, “You give it as good as you take Potty,” she stood back up and extended her hand, “Look, just don’t hurt him and I won’t have to hurt you alright?” 

Harry smiled back, apparently the way to win respect from Pansy Parkinson was to hold your own, “You have no idea how good I take it Pans,” he grinned, “I promise I’ll only hurt him if he asks me to.” He shook her hand as she shook her head at his comment. 

As she stalked out of the office with her heels clacking on the floor, Harry turned his attention back to the letter. He realised that there were far too many ways for a wand's magical signature to get on the parchment and Draco had probably been right for not wanting to investigate it further. 

He sighed, picked up his bag, and set to going to Dracos. At least he would have a fun story to regale him with. 

***

Harry nervously adjusted his dress robes and took a wine glass from a charmed tray. Draco followed suit, checking that his burgundy Aurors robes were pristine. He and Draco were attending a charity event at Gringotts on behalf of the Aurors department; it was an opportunity for them to show off the  _ Chosen One _ and an attempt at schmoozing more money for the department. They had been escorted far below the bank itself; the party of course being held in one of the oldest vaults that was empty. They now stood in a cathedral-like vault, lit by a plethora of charmed candles. The smell of wax, expensive wine, and wealth filled the room. For Harry this was not a scenario he found comfortable; for Draco this was merely a flashback to his childhood.

Representatives from nearly every department of the Ministry were present: The Minister himself was scheduled to make an appearance and there was an electric atmosphere because of this. There was also said to be a surprise guest that was highly anticipated and Harry looked forward to finding out who it could be.

Harry looked across to Draco, who was completely at ease. He tried his hardest to mimic him, but fell drastically short.

“Heavens, Potter…” Malfoy smirked, “Why on earth do you look like you’ve been given a disciplinary by Robards?”

Harry bit his lip and then grinned, “Well Ron, Hermione, and I did break into this very bank,” he caught Draco’s eye, “and then rode a dragon out of here.”

Draco’s smile was devilish as he surveyed Harry’s face, “Dear Merlin, Potty, is there any law you haven’t broken at some point?” His voice was low, he spoke just for Harry - it sent a shiver down his spine, knowing that Draco was sneaking a little bit of their personal lives into a space where they had to be totally professional. Malfoy didn't want to admit it, but Harry's law-breaking was tantalisingly attractive; it tarnished the all too clean Saviour image. They found Robards and greeted him before he gave them an all too long briefing on what they had to do tonight.

A large stage complete with various coloured lights dominated the far wall of the vault, and Harry felt a buzz of excitement ripple through him. There was going to be some serious entertainment for later on into the party - after the official mingling and working. Harry only really paid attention when it was time to relax, he never really did enjoy being paraded around by his bosses like a prize specimen at a dog show. He shook hands with Ministry officials, heads of charities, wealthy benefactors and merlin-knows-who-else; he made sure to plaster on a big smile and laugh at their jokes, no matter how bad they were. Any funding that they could get from people would help the department massively, Harry knew that, but that didn’t mean to say that he really felt the need for events such as this.

After they had eaten a five-course meal, drank more champagne, and listened to all the speeches possible the party began. Harry and all of his friends - Seamus, Dean, Ron, Hermione, Neville and Luna sat at their table together. Draco was joined by Pansy and Blaise, who sat at the table with them. Their outfits mirrored one another, Pansy’s midnight blue silk dress matched the lapels on Blaises expensive looking suit. The Aurors department scattered around the room, their burgundy robes standing out among the crowd dressed in smart dress robes. Harry felt awkward because he and his friends had been invited because of who they were and what they had done during the war, he would much rather have been here on an official capacity like the rest of his colleagues. 

The lights dimmed in the vault and the atmosphere changed dramatically. The curtain rose and bright lights focused on the stage, to Harry’s utter surprise, The Weird Sisters introduced themselves. A raucous cry rose up through the vault and the music started. Tables were hastily moved and a makeshift dance floor was laid and filled within minutes. Though the band were getting older, they were still the biggest band in the wizarding community; it seemed with every release they became more and more popular.

Draco shot an amused glance at Harry and raised an eyebrow. He rose elegantly from his chair, walked around the table and then held out his hand for Harry to take; people were surely going to notice but Harry couldn't resist. He hoped that among the crowd on the dancefloor the press wouldn't read into their actions too much provided they kept their hands to themselves. They stood close, though perhaps not as close as either one would have liked. Draco could smell Harry all around him, his expensive aftershave filling the air; it reminded Draco of how his sheets smelled after a night with Harry in his bed. He couldn't imagine how good Harry's sheets must smell, the thought of lounging in them with Harry in the morning was inebriating. They had danced for hours, unaware of most of the people around them, but having a good time nonetheless. They eventually broke their dance, so that Harry could dance with Ron and Hermione; and so Draco could dance with Pansy. 

The party had calmed down; the Minister had left and only those most dedicated to having a night out remained. Dean slumped, half asleep, on Harry’s shoulder as Seamus danced with Hermione. Glasses and discarded gloves and ties filled the table that they had occupied for the night, and the candles were burning low, dripping wax over the table cloth. Draco looked at Harry from across the table over the rim of his wine glass. He bit his lip slightly and winked. Harry’s breath got caught in his chest as he saw the glint in Draco’s eyes; no longer dissatisfied with his being around, but taunting him. It was pure filth; Draco was radiating lust and Harry was all too receptive. He was baiting Harry with his eyes, daring him to make a move. It sent a bolt of arousal to Harry's groin.

Harry cleared his throat, “Well… I’m gonna take off. I don’t want to suffer too much tomorrow.” He made direct eye contact with Draco and then made a point of waving to Seamus and Hermione and then caught the wagon that was ferrying people back to the surface. Harry waited outside the bank, hidden in the shadows of the building.


	17. After Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco sees Harry after the Gringotts Ball... What'll happen here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morning all! What would a Drarry fic be without some angst?

Draco knocked on the door of number 12 Grimmauld Place. Harry was waiting for him, of course, but still his heart picked up the pace as he heard those three raps. He was barefoot, and he took a moment to relish the feeling of the thick carpet under his feet in the hallway of this old house, trying to fight off some residual nervousness that he felt; Draco had never been here before, only a furtive whisper from Harry had broken the fidelius charm around the wards but he'd not ever shown up - until now. The only people that had visited so far were those that he really allowed to see the real Harry: the war-scarred 23 year old that had no interest in any of the  _ fame  _ bestowed upon him, but just wanted to work and live, and maybe find a way to learn what ‘happy’ means. Letting anyone inside of Grimmauld Place was like letting them into the deepest recesses of Harry's soul, but for Draco he would bear it. A shocking thought, but a thought nonetheless.

He opened the door and drank in the sight of Draco leaning against the door frame in his Aurors robes, hair mussed, and with a wicked grin on his face, “How goes it, Potty?” He asked, having the audacity to wink at him as he spoke.

Harry cleared his throat, “come in, you.” 

Malfoy straightaway noticed that something was wrong with Harry, and so decided to tread carefully. Harry had seemed fine at the party in Gringotts, but now, in his black silk pyjamas, he looked small and vulnerable. 

Harry walked through to what Draco assumed was the living room and he followed, watching intently as Harry sat in a large leather chair in front of the fire, legs curled up below him and a small smile on his face. 

“You okay?” Draco asked, his voice small in the expanse of the room. 

Harry nodded, “I'm just waiting for you to run off or something.” 

The fire crackled, and Draco was focused on the sound, “why ever would I run off Potter?” 

Harry's eyes looked more vibrant than usual in the firelight, his skin a warm tone of honey and his hair silkier than ever, “because this is me…” he looked around the room, “this house, the place… it's where I can be me. No pretending, no mask, no false cheerful persona. Just me.” 

Draco took a seat on the sofa next to Harry's chair and sighed, did Harry really think so little of him at this point? He trusted him as a partner at work, in the most violent and vulnerable of situations during which Draco would always have his back; but to Harry the worst thing Draco could encounter was a stray Potter at home in his pyjamas. It broke his heart a little that Potter would think that he would leave so soon. They were friends; partners. Admittedly they had over-complicated their relationship but Draco was sure that after everything they had been through together they could get past having seen each other in ecstasy, “Potter, I'm not about to leave,” the leather on the sofa creaked as he leaned towards Harry, “we're partners… forget all the other stuff, and I'm still here. For you.” 

“I just mean that here, in this building, everything feels different because my guards are down.” 

Draco took Harry's hands in his own, and squeezed them tightly, “I promise you, with every fibre of my being, that you will  _ never  _ have to have your guard up around me.” 

Harry stayed silent and looked at their joined hands, chewing his lip as if worried, 

“Harry,” Draco said, and Potter’s head shot up to look Draco fully in the eye, “you never have to worry about that shit with me.” 

Harry nodded, and squeezed Draco's hand back, “Well, now that that’s out the way do you want a drink? I have some wine in the cellar somewhere,” Harry shrugged towards the door and Draco nodded his response. 

Still having his hand in Draco’s, Harry led them back through into the hallway, and down some stairs. During their brief journey, Draco noticed the scale and proportions of the house - it was positively beautiful. High ceilings and chandeliers adorned every room; where plush carpets were absent, polished floorboards took their place well cared for and maintained; the wallpaper had to be expensive, perhaps antique, and the art hanging on the walls was certainly exquisite. They arrived in a large kitchen, with a large bench running down the middle. Draco could imagine big family Christmases, held not in the formal dining room, but in here: warm and cosy near the fireplace, comfortable in the presence of loved ones and home cooked food. 

He imagined what the rest of the house was like, and felt a tinge of sadness that there was only Harry to enjoy the space. Potter pulled open a small door and took them down yet another flight of stairs, into the cellar. 

“Go mental, pick whatever,” Harry smiled and let go of his hand, “I'll wait here for you.” 

Draco nodded and slinked off into the vastness of Grimmaulds cellar while Harry sat on the stairs. It was futile, now, for Harry to deny his feelings for Draco. He had let him into his safe space, his sanctuary, the place where Harry bares all. He wondered if he would regret it, if he would end up hurt at the end of all of this - deep down he knew that it wasn't going to be smooth sailing - but he was in too far to do anything about it now. His feelings weren't going anywhere for now, and perhaps just going with the flow is what would bring him out of it in one piece. 

Draco returned, two bottles of wine in his hands, and Harry led them silently back to their spot in the living room. 

Malfoy uncorked the first bottle and silently poured them both a glass. 

“We never really talked about it…” Harry said quietly, “but does it hurt? Your arm?” he touched his own left arm, mirroring where Draco's tattoo was. 

Draco, after having had a large drink of his wine, nodded, “yes and no,” his voice was croaky, “when Voldemort was alive it burned like hell. It was agony, a searing pain that shot all through my skin,” he sighed, “now that he's long gone it doesn't hurt. It's… sensitive, sure, but it’s not painful anymore.” 

“Just so you know, it doesn't bother me… seeing it, when we're at work or whatever. It's just another scar, that's all.” Harry spoke quietly, not wanting to break the atmosphere. 

Draco smiled, “I’m glad it doesn't come between us,” he whispered.

Harry leant forwards, and placed a small, sweet kiss on Draco's lips. He had intended to have a wild night after the party, but a sudden bout of anxiety had made him feel insecure. Draco caressed Harry's face, soothing him. 

*******

Draco had been able to feel the tension in the office all day. Harry had been quiet and nervous despite his best efforts to cheer him up, especially over the last few days. Draco was close to sending a memo to Hermione to get her down here to whip him into gear but he daren’t stress Harry even more. 

In order to escape the tension, Draco escaped to lunch alone, as Harry sat and did work. He seemed distracted, and his progress was slow, it was clear he had a lot on his mind. The ministry cafeteria would suffice, but Malfoy couldn't stop thinking about what would happen when he got back; surely it was near breaking point. With a sigh, Draco took a shrunken file from his pocket, and continued his work through lunch. 

Harry wrung his hands as he sat at the office, why he was nervous, he wasn’t sure. He’d faced down so many things with Malfoy; literally seen him in every state possible. He'd been feeling this way all day, being in the same room with Malfoy made him tongue tied and gave him a dry throat. He hadn't really ever had this kind of conversation with someone before - how do you tell someone that you want them in your life on a permanent basis? And Draco no less. 

Malfoy comes in, smiles at Harry but his face drops when he sees Harry’s demeanour. It was clear as day. 

“I can’t just keep this casual,” Harry said, his voice surprisingly steady, “Not with you.” he stood up from his spot at his desk, and looked up at Draco hopefully. 

“What do you mean, Potty?” Draco put down the papers that he was holding, and stood facing Harry, waiting for everything to unravel. Harry's face spoke volumes and Draco knew that there was going to be a confrontation. 

“I want more. I’ve started to have feelings for you and I… I don’t want this to just be some fling.” 

“Ah…” Draco said, his voice clipped, “Well, I’m not… I’m not in that mindset, Potter, I’m not wanting a relationship.”

“… Did all of this mean nothing to you then?” 

“It was just sex, Potter. No strings attached, just getting rid of frustrations. We had an agreement. Just sex between friends,” the desperation in his voice was evident as he sat down on the edge of his desk; he needed something for support if this was going to happen. 

“An agreement? That was it? If you didn’t feel even the slightest thing why would you sleep with me?!” Harry cries, his voice going hoarse from holding back. He balled his fists as tight as he could, wanting to feel a physical pain to justify how his heartbeat rushed in his ears. 

“It was just physical, Potter. We agreed,” Draco's voice broke, he didn't want to hurt Harry, but he was nowhere near ready for a relationship with somebody as intense as Potter. Pansy’s plea rang hotly in Dracos ears. Merlin he’d been a fool. 

“What happened to you never running away?!” Harry shouted, remembering the night after the party in which Draco reassured him that he was there to stay.

“Merlin, Harry, I meant as partners, or friends. In that way I'll never leave you. But I did make it clear from the start that there were no emotions involved,” he felt tears starting to well in his eyes, but dammit he was not going to cry. He could sense everything they had worked towards: their friendship, the case, their partnership at work, all unravelling right before him, “I consider you one of my closest friends, an ally that I never have to be weary of. Isn't that enough? We had an agreement, between friends, that it would go no further.” 

Harry bit his lip, clenched his jaw. He felt a whirlwind of emotion that he hadn't felt at the hands of Malfoy in a long time. Anger, sadness, frustration... pain. He wondered when he would get to make a decision of his own about his life that would pan out how he wanted it to. In that moment, he wished that Draco could feel the heartache that he felt, but he wasn't sure that he had a heart to hurt. Even if he did, he knew he couldn't do it. 

Ignoring the tears that poured down his face, he wrote a letter to Pansy telling her how he’d screwed up. Apologising. He wasn’t sure if he was looking for sympathy or more anger in his life, but she was the first person who he thought of to vent. 

Draco left the office early. He couldn't take being in the room with Harry any more. Their confrontation had turned to an argument, hidden only by the silencing charms on the office, and they had both said hurtful things. 

The club hadn't opened yet. There was no music playing, the lights hadn't been dimmed, and only Pansy, Blaise and a few of the dancers were milling around the big building. When Blaise saw the look on Draco's face, he immediately poured him a large glass of firewhiskey. 

“Everything okay, Draco?” He was setting up behind the bar, but slowed to talk to Draco. 

Draco sighed, and raked a hand through his hair, “I fucked it all up, as expected,” he took a drink of his whiskey, and looked at Blaise. His face was full of pity. 

“Pans!” Blaise shouted across the club, and soon enough, Draco heard the clicking of her heels across the dancefloor. 

She seemed to know what had happened before Draco had even opened his mouth to speak, “what did I tell you, Draco?” She spoke softly, as if not to startle him but was still edging around an ‘I told you so’ in the way that only Pansy could. 

“I know…” Draco threw his hands in the air in an act of frustration, “I know.” He sighed. Drank. And gestured for his empty glass to be refilled. 

“What do you need from us, D?” Blaise asked, pouring another glass for him while silently communicating with Pansy through one of their all-knowing glares. Little did the other two know that she knew everything, all from Harry. She hadn’t replied, not yet. She had needed to see Draco first, get his side. 

“Alcohol,” he took another drink, “and company…” he looked toward the poles, “and maybe a takeaway.” 

Pansy nodded, “and after all that?” 

“A hug,” Draco's voice broke. He did really like Harry, he cherished his company, he enjoyed his humour and the way that he expressed himself. But it was all too much. He let the tears fall, not caring anymore. 

Alex walked past, eyeing the group with his silver eyes then lingering on Malfoy, “come on, come sit on the sofa and let these two open up. We can chat while I get ready,” he took Draco by the hand and led him to the back room. 

Draco had always liked this room. A big red sofa took up most of the space, and there was a dressing table against the wall where the dancers would get ready. It was dim, warm, comfortable. He sat down with a sigh, his drink still in hand. Alexandre turned to the mirror to fuss with his hair, all the while trying to show his body off as much as possible. They'd had a one night stand a while back, something that Malfoy wasn't proud of, but didn't harbour any bad feelings towards. 

Draco knew what Alex was doing, it was as clear as day, but he couldn't care less. The dancer came and sat on his lap, draping his legs around him and sealing his lips in a kiss. It didn't taste right, and there was no beard to graze along his skin, but he went along with it. 


	18. Duty Calls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry talks with Ron and Hermione, and Emergency Duty crops up again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evening folks! I've had a shit of a day at work so there'll be two chapters up today... got to get it out of my system you know? This one is short and sweet and the next one is... well. Something. 
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy <3

Harry pushed the food on his plate around with his fork, not feeling like eating but knowing that he needed his strength for Emergency Duty that night - anything could happen. Ron and Hermione had gone quiet, sensing that something was wrong but not knowing how to broach the subject. 

Finally Ron couldn't take it anymore, “Harry, what's up?”

Harry looked up and saw the concerned look on their faces, “err… I may or may not have been sleeping with Malfoy,” he had decided to just be out with it. Ron dropped his fork, Hermione raised an eyebrow, and Harry chuckled nervously, “and I may or may not have developed feelings for him in the process,” he looked between their two faces, expecting them to say something but they stayed quiet. He continued, “anyway he didn't take it too well when I told him and now we hate each other again, so it's all back to normal I guess.” 

It was quiet for a moment, but Ron eventually picked up his fork, “what are you going to do about it?” He asked, as if Harry hadn't just dropped a bombshell.

“Erm… leave him alone because he's given me his answer and I need to respect that?” Harry said, thinking that the answer was obvious. 

Ron shook his head, “I meant about work you dimwit,” he chuckled. Hermione so far had said nothing, and that worried Harry. 

“Oh, well. I'm probably going to request a new partner,” Harry shrugged, “I can't see us still working together after all this,” 

Hermione finally spoke, “Harry, I don't think you two have ever actually hated each other,” she chuckled, “I’m honestly sure that all of this will blow over eventually,” 

Harry hummed in response and ate more of his food, “look, it'll be alright, okay? I'm going to request a new partner and move on. I just thought you should know because, yeah… I've been feeling a bit shit about it,” 

“Really, Harry,” Hermione reached out and took his hand in hers, “it's going to be alright. You and Draco have had a…. Tumultuous…. Relationship and you've got enough history to fill one of Binns’ lessons because you're drawn to each other no matter where you go or what you do. You're like two magnets, it's just that at the moment you're repelling each other; give it some time and it will right itself. I think he just needs some space,” she turned back to her food, as did Ron and Harry. 

“Is this not a shock to you?” Harry asked, the sudden realisation that there had been no surprised outbursts from his friends. 

Hermione shot a sheepish glance at Ron, who laughed, “you've always been obsessed with Malfoy,” he looked at Harry as if he was mad, “how should we be shocked?” 

Harry snapped defensively, “I've not always been obsessed with him,” Harry pushed his food around his plate. 

Ron gave Harry a look, “did you or did you not stalk him for hours on end with that damn map?” 

Harry gulped, “well, yeah, but I had to know what he was up to,” he bit his lip, “and I turned out to be right!” 

Hermione gestured to Ron and Harry, “okay, let's not drag all that up right now. It won't help,” she glanced at Harry who looked deep in thought, “are you okay Harry? Really?” 

While he appreciated her concern, he wasn't okay, “it's rough. I didn't expect to ever feel like this about Malfoy, but now I do, I can't get him out of my head and it hurts that he isn't in the right space right now,” he sighed, and finished his drink, “I even told Pansy everything after he rejected me… She had been totally right about everything,” Harry smirked at Hermione, “You two would be damn good friends you know,” 

Hermione raised an eyebrow at that comment, and a beat of silence followed, “Will you wait for him, do you think?” she asked. 

Harry considered everything for a moment, “Probably. You know what I’m like. I know what he’s like and he’s probably already moved on by now. He did always say that it was no strings and all that,” 

Ron left the table to go get him and Hermione a drink, Harry had pumpkin juice. 

“Do you really think Pansy and I could be good friends?” Hermione asked, a slight smile playing at her lips. 

“You two are insanely frightening, intelligent, and usually right about things,” Harry shrugged, “you’d be a formidable duo, I’m sure,” She certainly had given Harry what for, though there was a sympathetic edge to her response that made Harry think that maybe… maybe there’d be a chance for him and Draco to work. 

The talk of Harry's relationship problems ceased and he trudged off to the ministry, wondering what tonight could have in store. He knew that he would have to work hard on not being distracted by what has happened with Draco, if he gets into a firefight or gets a fellow Auror hurt he couldn't live with himself. 

He picked up momentum, running down the path to the ministry in a desperate attempt to flood his system with something more beneficial than thoughts of Draco's skin on his. He had to get himself warmed up somehow, get his blood flowing, get his mind racing and his muscles stretched. He was all but sprinting by the time he got to the ministry, cloak flowing and back damp with sweat. It felt better, his head was clearer, and his screaming lungs grounded him. 

As Harry came into the office to prepare for his third rota’d shift on Emergency Duty, Malfoy was just leaving. Their encounter was brief and cold; it made Harry feel awful because just a few days prior they had been entwined in each other's arms. He sat at his desk, waiting for his orders; luckily for his distracted brain it wasn't too long before he heard Robards’ bark call his name. 

“Potter, Rheardon, Callahan, Franklin… front and centre let's go!” 

As they all ran to meet Robards, Harry had the impression that this shift would be serious, he'd never seen Robards look so grave before. He had all of his equipment on him, and he had the feeling that he would need every piece that he had. He looked to his fellow Aurors, and their faces were serious. 

“Be careful out there…” Franklin said to Harry and his team mates, “ _ Constant Vigilance. _ ”


	19. Anguish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something goes wrong for Harry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Midnight! So because I've had a shit of a shift at work, I decided to upload two chapters today - for whatever reason. As promised - here is the second chapter. 
> 
> As always, your support is massively appreciated - you're all amazing. 
> 
> p.s. I'm sorry.

“What the fuck happened?!” Ron's voice boomed throughout the halls in St Mungo's and only Hermione could hold him back. He stormed into the private rooms one by one looking for Harry. Hermione stopped trying to get her fiance under any semblance of control, and instead looked for a healer. 

“Sorry, where is Auror Potter, please?” She asked, with all the politeness she could muster at such a late hour, though the tears streaming down her face betrayed her true feelings. 

“I’m not supposed to--” the healer began, but Hermione interrupted her. 

“Just in case you're not fully aware,” she looked closely at the woman's name tag, and wiped some tears from her eyes, “Healer Roberts… I’m Hermione Granger, this here is Ron Weasley… we are looking for Harry Potter, and so help you Merlin if you don’t tell us where the hell he is.” She crossed her arms and tapped her foot expectantly. She was used to pushing her weight around at work, and had honed her authority to the highest degree. The healer looked at her for a second and then caved. 

“Fine, fine… he's this way,” she gestured with her hand and led Hermione and Ron to Harry's room. 

Harry lay there, motionless, covered in bruises and surrounded by healers. The healers were performing spells and taking notes in a quiet frenzy. As Ron saw the scene in front of him, he broke down. 

“What the fuck happened?” He sobbed, “somebody please tell me.” His voice was sore from the shouting in the hallway, and no doubt the memory of seeing Harry being carried in Hagrid's arms just a few years prior. Harry couldn't die… it was impossible. It was all that was going through Ron's mind - Harry could NOT die. 

Hermione put a consoling arm around Ron, her worry tangible on her tear soaked face, “can someone please explain to us what's happening?” she tried her hardest to maintain her composure, but it was beginning to crack. Her mind, like Ron's, was taken back to the battle of Hogwarts, and seeing Harry dead in front of her. 

A healer turned to look at her with pity in his eyes, “let's go into another room and I'll explain all to you, I promise.” Ron and Hermione glanced at the healers working away, grateful for their hard work, and followed the healer through the door. 

They stood, once more in the hallway, and they looked at the Healer in anticipation. 

“As far as we can tell, about two hours ago Aurors Potter, Reardon, Callahan, and Franklin were on Emergency duty and were caught in a firefight with a group of dark wizards. Auror Potter was hit with an unknown curse in the shoulder and the effects of it have spread throughout his body. As the curse is unknown, we have Healers from the curse department working on finding a way of stabilising him, and curse breakers are coming in from the Ministry to help. For now, the only way that we can stop the residual effects from the curse spreading even further throughout his body is to put him in a magically induced coma. Before you ask, I can't say how long this is all going to take, but please, please be assured that we are working as hard as we can to get him shipshape again.” 

“Is he going to die?” The worry in Ron's voice sent more tears to Hermione's eyes. They'd always been as close as brothers, and Ron had already lost one. He didn't need to lose another. 

The healer hesitated, “we aren't sure at this point,” he sighed, “I want to be completely honest with you because of who you are… we haven't encountered this curse, and it spreads like wildfire. We’re trying as hard as we can. It would be good for Harry if you could go get some of his things to be around him. We need to change his clothes because there may be residual magic on his uniform that may affect him - hospital gowns aren't nice, even when you're in a coma.” 

Hermione nodded, still trying to calm herself, “alright, thank you healer.” 

She led Ron by the arm and sat on a chair in the corridor. Ron had gone incredibly quiet, and Hermione knew that this was how his worry manifested itself, “he's got to be okay, ‘mione. He just has to be,” he whispered, “I couldn't take it if we lost him.” 

“I know,” Hermione stroked Ron's hair, “me neither. Let's go get some things from his house, we need to make him comfortable and get out of the healers way,” they rose from the chairs and flooed to Grimmauld. 

Harry looked dreadful, a dark purple-black slimy wound marred his shoulder, tendrils of the curse spreading through his arm and chest indicated that the curse spread fast; whatever it was. If they looked close enough, they could see the curse pulsating under his skin, like it was sentient in it’s capture of Harry. Ron had vanished Harry's clothes, his sweat soaked, curse ridden uniform lay under a stasis charm in the corner, and performed a spell to put his fresh pyjamas on him. 

“Where the fuck was Malfoy?” Ron's voice was small, “it took me a while to trust that slimy git but he has always protected Harry as partners. Why wasn't he there?” A stifled sob escaped his lips and he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, he took a deep breath to try and steady himself but the fact that this was Harry - his best friend, brother, partner in crime - could not be ignored. They had grown up together, fought a war together, nearly died together. To think that Harry had nearly died without Ron there made him regret not joining the aurors. 

“Aurors aren't always put on emergency duty together,” Hermione replied, “he probably wasn't rota’d,” she reasoned, knowing as well as Ron that Draco would lay his life down for Harry if needed. She ran her hand soothingly across Ron's shoulder, trying to provide comfort but not succeeding, she too was scared beyond reason for Harry. Much like Ron, Hermione was reminded of the hard times in the war, and also the fact that Harry wasn't indestructible; the boy-who-lived, maybe, but not the man-who-can’t-die. 

A healer entered the room, “thank you for being here,” she began, her voice quiet in the tension filled room, “he’ll appreciate the comfy clothes and the support. For now though, please go rest. Mr Thomas and Mr Finnegan are here to visit, they'll keep you updated, I'm sure.” 

They nodded a solemn response, and after Hermione had placed a tender kiss to Harry's forehead, they left. 

Seamus and Dean stayed with Harry for days, letting Hermione and Ron sort things out for Harry so that the media didn't get wind of what had happened - a media storm in the hospital wouldn't help the situation, and as they were listed as his next of kin, they could pretty much say whatever and it had to be done. 

On the fourth day, Hermione and Ron received a letter from Malfoy: 

**Dear Mr Weasley and Ms Granger,**

**I know that things between Harry and I have been less than ideal of late, but as his partner, I do feel entitled to see him in the hospital. As I have stated to Mr Thomas and Mr Finnegan, Head Auror Robards has requested that I gather a sitrep of Potters status and all that bureaucratic nonsense. Please don't make me beg,**

**Auror Malfoy.**

Ron slammed the letter down on the table in their flat in wizarding London and sighed, “‘Mione, come help me here,” he called through to her, “I can't think right now,” as he spoke to her, he quickly hid some sheafs of parchment under the newspaper. 

She glanced through the letter, “just tell him that Harry is doing fine, and that we will let the healers deal with Robards. If Harry does wake up any time soon I don't want Draco there to create drama.” She sighed, and left the room again, leaving Ron to peruse his secret parchment. 


	20. Action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco works in seclusion. Harry's predicament develops...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good Evening! Isn't it wonderful to have a day off? Have another chapter while I'm soaking in some relaxation <3

Malfoy paced in the office, worried to his wits end about Harry. He wished to see him so much, it had put everything into perspective for him; if only the Gryffindor squad weren't being so strict with who saw Harry at the hospital. 

The office seemed too quiet, too empty. Harry's desk was just as he had left it, strewn with research notes and empty tea cups; Draco's was unusually tidy. He had organised everything partially out of stress, and partially out of the need to put his reports together. He knew which direction he needed to go now, thanks to the information given by Mattias, but there were limits to the information given; he would have to do some major work to actually locate the culprit. 

He wasn't assigned another partner in Harry's absence so he was having to do all of the work himself. He was exhausted, but he wanted the case to be closed before Harry came back. He wanted Harry's return to work to be as stress free as possible. He tried to push back the morbid thought of Harry not returning to work, it wasn't worth thinking about. 

His break came through on a quiet day just after Christmas, when he had a lead that the culprit was in Lancashire. Robards had given him permission to stay there until he had caught the person responsible. 

He looked at the holdall next to his feet, and across the unnaturally tidy office; he did not know how long he would be gone, or if he would get back before Harry did. He had made sure to clean Harry's desk, to remove the wretched tea cups, the rubbish and the overflowing inbox. Draco had forwarded hundreds of get well cards from fans, hoping that Harry was up and about to read them. 

He had rented a small cottage, conveniently connected to the floo network, in the very middle of nowhere. Snow piled high around the cottage; the trees laden with it, drooped under the weight. The thatch on the roof could cope, built steadfastly centuries ago and maintained with magic, it was impenetrable. Luckily. Draco looked around, his breath misting in the air, there were no houses for miles. The only things that marred the horizon was a forest that looked positively menacing, and the rolling hills that Lancashire was famous for. 

He wanted to be as concealed as possible, not to give the culprit any hint that he was anywhere close to being chucked in Azkaban. The cottage, while tight, was enough for Draco to get comfy. There was an ample fireplace, which Draco made a mission of lighting as soon as he got in, and the sofa was wonderfully comfortable, if a tad too big for the room. He got himself settled, unpacking his things in the - very small - bedroom, and making a cup of tea. It would do, he decided, it was an adequate enough base to work from for the time being. 

After he had familiarised himself with the place, he spent some time putting up his own evidence board, now loaded with clues to hunt down his perp; it took centre place in the living space, overwhelming the small walls and windows. 

Draco had been inside for three weeks. He was going crazy, he was sure of it. Every time he was within reaching distance, the culprit would slip through the cracks; his board was getting much too full and complicated to keep up with. He was almost at the point of giving up, when there was a knock on the cottage door. Draco instantly panicked, no one should know where he was. 

He grabbed his wand, and peaked through the small hatch on the door, “who's there?” He barked. 

“Mr Malfoy?” A quiet voice spoke, “let me in.” Draco vaguely recognised the figure as an informant of his, someone he had trusted to pass him tidbits of information about his prey. 

He reluctantly opened the door, ashamed that someone was going to see the chaos that was the cottage. 

Mr McDonald looked around the stifling cottage, which was thick with three weeks worth of stale air and heat from the fire, he cleared his throat, “Dresden is in the area… quite close to you actually. I'd suggest a raid if possible,” he slipped Malfoy a piece of paper with an address on it, “right now… ideally.” 

He had the name of his culprit. At long last. 

With nothing more to give, Mr McDonald left, and Draco got to work. He sent a patronus to Robards, asking for backup for the raid. 

Within an hour it was time.

*******

“Ron!!” Hermione shouted through their flat, “Ronald, where are you?!” He emerged from the bedroom with a worried look on his face, “Harry's awake.” 

That was all she had to say before Ron discarded the toothbrush that had been hanging out of his mouth and met her in the kitchen, fully dressed and ready to go. 

“Do we know how he is?” He asked, twirling his wand between his fingers, a nervous tic that he had picked up from George at the shop. 

“Not a clue, the healer just owled me,” they left their flat and within a second had apparated to the entrance of St Mungo's. As soon as they stepped foot into the foyer, they were scooped up by the head healer and taken to Harry. 

Relief flooded them as they saw Harry sat up in bed, his shoulder still black and purple but in generally good spirits. He smiled as he saw them and a few tears dropped down his face. 

Ron couldn't be stopped as he ran towards Harry, engulfing him in a huge embrace, “listen to me, you complete fucker, don't you  _ ever  _ do that to us again.” They held each other tight and Harry laughed. 

“Sorry, Ron. Occupational hazard, I guess.” He tried to remain cheerful but a wince escaped as Ron let him go. He absentmindedly rubbed his shoulder and then winced harder. 

Hermione gasped slightly, “did they find the cause, Harry?” She asked. Her eyes roaming over his shoulder, sure that this would add another scar to the mix. She found a twisted sense of joy that at least Harry would be happy with another cool scar to show Teddy.

Harry sat up straighter, his jaw set and his eyes dark. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, “yes, but you may want to sit down.” 

Ron immediately knew that this was Harry's ‘auror mode’, and it served to remind him how powerful Harry was. He could see the restraint on Harry's face, the anger that rippled up through his core, “I was hit with a few different curses, most of them easily broken, but the main guy,” he gestured to his shoulder, “well… it's a complex curse,” he grunted as he tried to get comfortable, “we knew that already… but, and here's the insult to fucking injury, it's a curse that the aurors created to help train the curse breakers.” 

Hermione's mouth was agape, “so that means that an auror or curse breaker cursed you?” The disbelief in her voice was evident; Ron simply sat stunned. 

“It looks that way yes,” Harry looked at Hermione, his eyes pleading with her, “but I’ll find out who it was and they'll wish they'd never been born. The curse was never designed to be actually used, and only a few people know about it because they stopped using it a few years ago. Seems that people just… forgot… about it.” 

“Do you already know who it was?” Ron asked, picking up on the wild magic radiating from Harry. 

“Not yet… but I have an idea,” Harry said, but Ron knew that Harry was sure. Hermione wasn't as able to pick up on the silent communication between the two as she used to be, but she knew that something was going on. With this, a healer came bustling into the room, clearly oblivious as to the conversation that she had just ended. 

“Right then, Auror Potter,” she said, and gave the impression that she was more of a hard loving matron than a gentle nurse, “it's time for you to go through some rather nasty tests, but if you pass you might get to go home sooner than you think.” When she had finished speaking, Ron and Hermione took their leave.

When Harry finally returned to Grimmauld under strict instructions to rest, it had been four weeks since the initial accident had taken place. Ron, Hermione, Seamus and Dean had spent about a week making sure that everything was in order at the house - the potions cabinet was fully stocked, his laundry was all done, his pantry had been filled with his favourite foods, and Kreacher had put his favourite blankets on his bed, ready for him to sink into. On the table in the kitchen, a rigorous regimen of his medications and visits from healers took pride of place as a steady reminder to Harry that he wasn't out of the woods yet. 

As he stepped over the boundary of Grimmauld, Harry immediately felt a bit better. This house always provided some sense of comfort to him, but with his injury and his fatigue, it was akin to a warm blanket covering him. Ron helped him up the stairs to his bedroom, and they managed to get Harry into the bed without too much effort. 

“You know,” Harry muttered with a grim smile on his face, “if you keep on helping me get dressed like that, Hermione might get jealous,” he laughed as much as he dared and took the first of his pain potions for the night. They were both aware that the pain would get worse before it got better, and that the next few weeks would be hell. 

“Hear me out, mate,” Ron said as he put Harry's dirty clothes into the laundry basket, “I've seen you naked enough, and trust me, if I was into guys you'd not be my type…” he looked at Harry and they both sniggered. He put a glass of water on the bedside table and turned out the lights before he left, he reassured Harry, “‘Mione and I are staying here tonight, so if you need anything send a patronus and we’ll be there. Night mate,” the door closed behind him and Harry drifted off.

As predicted, the pain got worse before it could get better. Hermione explained to Harry that it was because of the nature of the curse - it was fighting the potions and the counter curses that had been applied to it but it would get better once there was a high enough concentration of the potions in him. They cared for him for days, and Harry knew that eventually they would have to return to work, they had a wedding to plan after all. 

The next morning at breakfast (and pain potions), Hermione and Harry were talking about his shoulder. She was rightly worried about it, as magical wounds take far, far longer to heal than others, “you know Harry,” she smiled wryly, “you'll probably get another medal for this,” she bit into her toast and held back a giggle. 

Harry raised an eyebrow, “I mean, of course. I'm counting on it,” he laughed and Hermione joined in. He tried to ignore the pain that laughing sent him into, but a grimace must have reached his face. 

“Do you know who did it?” Hermione asked, gesturing to his shoulder. 

“Yeah, I've already let on to Ron who it was but that's only because I was riding a high on pain potions. It was Auror Franklin. I'm 98% sure. I sent Robards a letter so it'll probably be in the papers soon enough,” he stabbed one of the sausages on his plate with his fork. 

Hermione's face went dark, “to think that it was someone that close,” she gulped, “I hope he gets thrown into Azkaban,” 

“So do I, and so does Ron,” Harry nodded. 

Harry spent the day resting, with Ron, Hermione, and Kreacher waiting on him hand and foot. He wanted to be more independent but every time he tried to move his shoulder sent shooting pains across his entire body. 

Seamus came to keep Harry company when Hermione had to return to work and Ron had meetings to go to. They were in Harry's room eating breakfast when Seamus piped up. 

“So have you not seen Draco?” 

“Why would I have seen Malfoy?” Harry asked, taking a bite into the juicy orange on the tray in front of him. 

“He was going mad trying to see you when you were in the hospital,” Seamus laughed, “had to tell him to piss off once or twice when he started to make a scene… practically trashed St Mungos you know,” 

“Oh,” Harry remarked, surprised by the revelation, “nobody told me.” 

“Well, knowing what you're like with work, they probably didn't want you waking up just so you could go into the office!” Seamus took the tray from Harry's bed and got his potions ready for him, lining them up on the bed side table. There was no danger in Harry taking too many, they were charmed to only be opened when it was time for them to be taken. He made sure that Harry's bed was comfortable for him, as rearranging the blankets proved too much for him to handle on his own, and took the pots downstairs. 

Harry felt like he remained captive in his own house, unable to leave the thoughts that surrounded him. When he made sure no-one was looking, he snuck out a copy of the casefile from under the duvet; studying it in silence. Though after an hour or so, his thoughts crept back to Malfoy. Had he really been fighting tooth and nail to get into the hospital? Why? What did he want? 


	21. Result

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An arrest is made, and Draco pays a visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morning all! I hope you're all doing well, and enjoying the fic so far! I'm already working on my next Drarry fic because apparently I'm a glutton for punishment xD   
>  <3

Malfoy holstered his wand, and made sure that he had all of his necessary equipment. 

The small team of Aurors that had assembled were the best of the best, something that surprised Malfoy - this had originally started out as a fraud case, but was now being treated as a deliberate attempt at breaking the Statute of Secrecy. He had done the legwork himself for the past few weeks but when he had called for an elite team, Robards had given it willingly. The team were all huddled in the small cottage, as Draco debriefed them on the details of the case, and all of the intel he had been given by his informant. 

They made a plan to storm the building, arrest Thuslas Dresden with as little disturbance as possible, and then comb through the evidence. Before they had even set foot inside the house, the Department of Mysteries wanted to take over the case citing the need to examine all of the items within Thuslas’ possession to ensure that they were safe and legal. 

With much anticipation and much tension between the Aurors and the Unspeakables, they set off toward their goal. They had planned the journey down to the minute, and every second that ticked by, was another second closer to Draco being back with Harry. If he’d have him of course. Draco shook his head, trying to abandon the thoughts of Harry and focus on the task at hand, not wanting to put anyone at risk by being distracted. 

They cast the appropriate disillusionment charms, and snuck toward the ramshackled house where Thuslas Dresden was hiding. Malfoy did not know what to expect, if Dresden would be as difficult as Mattias, or if he would admit to his crimes and come along easily. If he were a betting man, he would have bet on the former. The area around the house was thick with mud, and revealed the only trace of the Aurors as they approached. 

They all waited in silence, waiting for the perfect moment to storm the building. The energy was palpable. 

Draco shook with anxiety as they breached the door, he was so ready for this case to be over. He and Auror Callahan entered first, and cleared the main room, one of the unspeakables caught Thuslas in a small study and Malfoy rushed in to help. He was struggling, knocking inkwells all over them, and throwing paper around to disorient them. Draco wouldn't let it work, and with the help of the unspeakable, they managed to bind his hands and get him out of the building. 

A search of the building provided a cache of evidence that would be used to send Thuslas to Azkaban, including some old muggle copying equipment, copies of the letter, and diaries full of anti-wizard rants. It appeared to Malfoy that Thuslas was incredibly angry at the wizarding world for their treatment of Squibs, and wanted to get back at them for it. Malfoy poked around the room, finding answers to loose ends and trying to get a feel for Thuslas. It seemed that he was a bitter, angry man; something that Draco could understand. He too had been ostracised by the wizarding community once upon a time, though he hadn’t broken the statute to get some kind of revenge. 

They decided, after much debate, to completely clear the house of its contents; everything was to be examined by the Department of Mysteries before his trial, and the case was officially handed over. There was nothing left to do now, but go back home. 

Malfoys entire body ached. He had lifted, walked, ran, and spelled enough for three weeks. The department of mysteries were taking control of Thuslas’ equipment, and had used Malfoy as their mule to transport it back to the ministry. He hated being used like this, as if his work for the Aurors meant nothing, and he was only the son of a death eater coerced into following his family’s beliefs. He let it wash over him, determined to not let it ruin this victory. He had worked hard, and even if the case had been handed over to the Department of Mysteries, he considered it a win. He had done something admirable by upholding the most important law in the wizarding community, and hopefully it would be the catalyst for change within the ministry and spark new opportunities for squibs and their families. Draco knew that there were positions that could be possible for them, if only the ministry would get over its own superiority. 

As he settled back into his office in the Aurors department, he decided to make one more stop before returning home for the first time in about a month. 

*******

Harry sensed that a wizard was close to breaching the wards of Grimmauld Place. It was like a presence was hovering on the edge of the wards, on the border between Harry’s bubble and the muggle world. Harry shuffled the length of the drawing room and pulled back the heavy curtain to peer outside. His shoulder ached furiously as he moved, causing him to grimace. The weather hadn’t improved, a grey sky still hung low, threatening more rain. There in the middle of the road, biting his lip and wringing his hands, stood Draco Malfoy. He looked exhausted, his Aurors robes were covered in mud, and his blonde hair was disheveled and streaked with the same black liquid that had seeped into his robes.

Harry considered the situation for a moment, and decided to let Malfoy in. He opened the front door and stepped outside, thus revealing Grimmauld Place to him. Harry stood, still nauseous from the pain of his shoulder; he was still not quite ready for people to be around, however there was something about the way that Malfoy held himself that told Harry that things were going to be okay. Malfoy looked worn out as Harry beckoned for him to come over with his good arm.

Part of Harry was happy that Draco looked worn out. It served him right for putting Harry through the wringer and back again. A big part of Harry, however, wanted to wrap Draco in a blanket and tell him that whatever was wrong would work out and all would be well. He snorted to himself as he thought - even after everything: their history, their fraternizing, their arguing, the pining… Harry still wanted him. How pathetic. At some point he would have to come to the realisation that it was never going to happen. 

Right now wasn’t that moment. 

He held the door open for Malfoy to come in and then walked straight back to his spot in the drawing room. He cast a warming charm on the blanket and wrapped himself back in it.

Malfoy looked around the grand room and sucked his teeth, “no chance of a cup of tea?” he raised his eyebrow and shoved a hand into his pocket. A playful smirk crept up onto his lips, but it swiftly disappeared when his comment was met with stony silence. He should’ve known. 

Harry glared at Malfoy from under his brow and scowled, “What do you want?” he finally spoke.

A half smile played on Draco’s lips, “We only bloody caught him, Potter,”

Harry pulled the blanket further over him and took a sip of the pain-relieving potion that sat on the floor next to him, “And?” he asked, unimpressed. The fact that he was in pain set an edge to his voice that he hated the sound of.

Malfoy sighed heavily, and yanked his hand out of his pocket with an exasperated grunt. He clenched his fists. When he spoke, his voice was weak with fatigue and a kind of defeat, “Yes, well I thought I’d let you know because we were the lead Aurors on the case and I need you to do your share of the paperwork from before your accident.” His arms fell to his side with a slap against his thigh and he turned on his heels. It broke his heart to see Harry like this. Depressed, in pain, upset, defeated. How badly he had mucked everything up. 

Harry nodded and turned over on the settee, his long dark hair splaying out across his shoulders and the improvised pillow that his head lay on. Draco stopped as he reached the door. He was fixated on Harry’s hair, for a brief moment. It looked so similar to when they were in bed together. He’d give so much to have that Harry back, the soft, pliable, intoxicating Harry. 

_ Fuck this,  _ he thought to himself,  _ I’ve tried to get to him, I wanted to see him so bad _ . Before he could control himself his emotions intensified at the realisation that yet again he was being villainized even after he’d tried to right his wrongs. “Are you still angry about everything? Is that why you’ve been avoiding me at every cost and moping at home?” Draco snapped; he couldn’t take anymore. 

“You did it all on purpose,” Harry called, his voice muffled by the blanket and the settee, “I gave a part of myself to you and you disregarded my feelings like the prick you are… but right now, I’m in pain and I...” Harry paused, sighed deeply, and wished that he could just disappear, “I’ve been moping, because… and I don't know if you care, but I  _ was  _ nearly killed at work. Just do one, Malfoy.”

Draco let Harry’s words sink in, “Yes, you gave a part of yourself to me or whatever, but you agreed to not letting feelings get involved,” he sighed, “It’s not my fault that you have no emotional control,” he felt himself getting angry so he took a deep breath and waited for his pulse to calm, “We’re not suited to being partners at work, and we’re certainly not suited to being  _ whatever _ you wanted us to be.” He strode out of the room before Harry could respond, and slammed the doors behind him. The room turned silent, cold, and incomprehensibly lonely.

Harry sobbed in frustration, deep down he knew that Draco was probably right.

Draco broke down when he left Grimmauld. It had been so hard to see Harry like that - a shadow of the man he could grow to love. Was maybe growing to love. His emotions were comparable to a rollercoaster - how could he be angry, and worried, and loving, and so damn pissed off all at once? How was he not going crazy? 

Though of course he already was crazy: he’d turned down Harry Potter.


	22. A Hero's Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry goes back to work... what will happen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morning all! I have a full week off work, so expect regular chapter updates! <3   
> Hope you're all still enjoying the ride - it did get a tad bumpy xx

As Harry walked into the department, he was expecting there to be some form of welcome back committee, but he did not expect what he saw when he walked in: absolutely nothing. Relief flooded through him en masse and he slunk off to Robards’ office to meet his new partner. 

“Morning Potter,” Robards almost smiled, “as per your partner request, you've a new partner. Potter, meet Senior Auror Santana; you'll be teamed up now until one of you inevitably gets sick of the other or gets a promotion. You've got a new office next to Santana's - she'll show you where it is. Right… off you pop, I've got work to do.” Harry was struck by how imposing this woman was, strong and assertive, and looked every inch the formidable Auror - Harry was excited to meet someone like her: a veteran of the department with more arrests under her belt than he could even imagine having. Her hair was bright ginger, pulled back into a curly ponytail, and her bright blue eyes shone under some heavy eyeliner. She didn't wear Aurors robes, but rather a shirt and slacks with her wand holstered low on her hip. 

Santana smiled wickedly at Harry and gestured to the door, “After you…” 

Harry walked back into the bullpen and Santana followed, “it's nice to meet you, I'm looking forward to working with you,” Harry smiled, she was intimidating but he could already tell that they would end up working well together. 

“I've heard a lot about you… naturally. I was definitely intrigued when I was told that you would be my new partner,” they walked slowly towards a line of offices that overlooked the main hive of the department, “it's no secret that the Ministry will want you to be the poster boy of the department so I figured it could be good to give you some extra experience for when that time comes,” 

“I kind of had an inkling from that one time the Minister joked that I  _ had _ to be head Auror one day or the DMLE would cease to function,” Harry grimaced. Santana led Harry into what was now his office, and sat on the edge of the desk. The door closed silently behind them, leaving them in silence for a brief moment. 

“Now we're out of everyone's way,” she sighed, “I can meet you properly,” she extended her hand, “I’m Zoe, though most people call me Santana. I've been doing this for a very long time so if you have any questions feel free to ask away,” 

“What kind of cases do you usually get?” Harry asked, desperate to sink his teeth into something dangerous. 

“Well… usually the more tricky ones,” she laughed, “I'm sure you'll enjoy them,” 

“Working on anything at the moment?” He asked.

“You,” she snorted, “and I'm giving a lecture to the new recruits today, which you're more than welcome to join in if you want?” 

Harry nodded, thinking that it could be interesting. 

“Before we go though, I want to ask  _ you _ something Harry,” she looked him square in the eyes and he nodded, “what exactly happened between you and Malfoy?” 

Harry froze for a brief second, confronted with the dilemma in front of him. Should he lie? Should he say that they simply didn't work well together? It was a believable lie - everyone knew their history. That wouldn't be a good start to a new partnership, though, there can be no secrets between partners. If he told the truth, however, he could face disciplinary action at the Ministry, and he didn't know if he could actually  _ do _ anything other than being an Auror. Santana seemed to pick up on his internal struggle. 

“Ah,” she said, and looked Harry up and down, “really?” She seemed surprised and a wide grin spread across her face, “well… shit happens.” She shrugged and opened the office door to the chaos that was the bullpen. After a brief moment in which there were zero consequences for Harry, he followed her; ready for this new chapter in his career.

Harry and Santana walked into the lecture theatre, a room that Harry hadn't been in since he was a fresh faced recruit. It was cram packed with excited people of all ages, ready to carry on their journey into the DMLE; they were all due to officially graduate the following year, but their first week would be a week long induction into the department to find their feet, before being plunged into their traineeship.

Harry stood to the side of Santana, listening to her give the usual welcome talk. He finally looked around at the audience, seeing people occasionally glancing at him, but otherwise listening to Zoe. He had to take a second glance at one face in the crowd though. 

Ron. 

Ron gave Harry a sheepish smile and turned his attention back to Zoe. Harry shook his head slightly, instantly knowing why Ron had chosen to secretly join: for him. Harry knew that his close call with death had rattled Ron, and he knew that Ron had done this as a way to cope with it. It almost brought a tear to Harry's eye, but then he remembered where he was and who he was in front of. 

Zoe finished wrapping up her speech, “anything you'd like to add Auror Potter?” 

Harry flashed a cheeky grin, “anyone who makes Robards cry gets ten galleons from me,” he winked and turned back to Santana who's expression mirrored his own. 

After the lecture, Zoe and Harry returned to their offices, as they were walking, she sprung something on Harry, “oh, I forgot to say… I like to train twice a week with my partners in the department gym; we have to know how the other one works in the field and under fire,” she smiled that wicked smile of hers and ducked into her office. 

A month had passed with Santana as Harry's partner and their dynamic was clearly successful. They had solved and closed four cases, made several arrests, and had broken in the new recruits. Their cases, while difficult, had been simply open and shut, resulting in some firefights but nothing too serious. Harry had really enjoyed his job recently, and had a good feeling about the future. 

Santana burst through Harrys office door and he immediately knew that something big was going down, “saddle up Saviour, we've got a fun one,” she shot out as quick as she appeared and Harry rushed after her, getting ready as he ran. 

“Take that shit-eating grin off your face, Potter,” she said, all of a sudden totally serious, “this one is grim,” she stepped into the floo and called out for Diagon Alley. 

When Harry stepped out of the fireplace, he saw a team of Aurors around a table, planning how they were going to take down whatever dark wizard had wandered into their trap, “what's the situation?” Harry asked, heading over to greet the lead on the arrests. 

“So, we've got a group of no-good shitheads trying to create inferi just outside of Diagon, and they're losing control. The inferi have got into muggle London and very obviously we can't have that happening,” he went on to explain who would be going where and with whom. Harry glanced at the table in front of them, it was strewn with muggle newspapers, all filled with talk of a zombie apocalypse. 

Harry couldn't deny the excitement that filled him as he strode out with the other Aurors.


	23. A Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is awarded a medal... someone shows their face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Hey.... regrettably we are nearing the end of our journey together :( It's been a hoot and a half, and as I've mentioned before I do have another Drarry fic on the back burner that I'll hopefully finish xD 
> 
> For now though, feel free to hit me up on Tumblr: graduallyfindingpeace <3

Hermione had been correct: Harry was due another medal. The gold leaf invitation to the ceremony lay on the chest of drawers in his room, discarded and forgotten, as he got dressed up once more. His dress robes had seen more than enough action as of late, and he couldn't wait to shove them back into the wardrobe to be left alone. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, and shuddered at the sight of his dead eyes. He should be happy but he didn’t see how he deserved this. 

With a sigh, he removed his heavy cloak, and pulled a sleek muggle jacket from a hanger. This would do much better, it was still stylish, but not quite as formal as his dress robes. He really hated those things, and appreciated the freedom of movement that a jacket bestowed: if there was going to be a fight, a jacket was better. He grimaced slightly at his morbid thoughts, and practised looking cheerful before his big event. 

Harry didn't think, deep down, that he deserved a medal, all he had done was carry out his duties as any Auror (aside from Franklin) would do. To Harry it was all pomp and ceremony, designed only to show him off and make the ministry look good. He pinned his Order of Merlin to his lapel, as per the request on the invitation with a sigh, weary of the person he was turning into. 

His journey to the ministry was hounded by reporters, wanting to know every detail of his recovery but in true Harry form, he was running too late to tell them anything. He knew that by the time he had run to the apparition point, his hair would be wild, but he hoped that his outfit was stylish enough to make it look intentional. He got to the ministry fifteen minutes late, but was greeted warmly by Santana, Hermione and Ron. They were all wearing their finest outfits, and looked so proud of him though there was a hint of upset in Hermione's eyes. 

“Every time you get a medal, it's because you've nearly died,” she said ruefully, “I really hope you don't get any more,” she finished with a wry smile. She pulled Harry into a tight hug and as they parted, Harry passed her his handkerchief to wipe away the tears that threatened to spill. 

“I promise as much as I can, that I'll try to not get any more,” he looked down at his lapel and grimaced, he hated flaunting himself as some kind of hero when all he had done was what he was expected to, had the circumstances been different he may have not done it. 

They stood at the side of the stage as the Minister spoke of Harry's heroism, which made Harry cringe. He felt sick, but he had faced much worse in his lifetime. 

He took a deep breath and strode across the stage, trying to feign more confidence than he felt. It was a comfort knowing that his partner and his best friends were standing in the wings waiting for him, supporting him. The Minister shook his hand as he reached the microphone and clapping ensued. As he looked out across the crowd he could see the faces of his colleagues, his best friends, and even professor McGonagall. 

“Thank you, Minister, for this honour. As I'm sure you all know I'm more than comfortable putting my life on the line for the benefit of the public; however, I don't do this for the glory or admiration that medals bestow,” he shuffled his cue cards, “I will continue to do my job, just as everybody else in the DMLE to keep you all safe from those that continually break our laws. Working with the Aurors has been one of the most worthwhile things I have done with my life - aside from the obvious,” his one liner elicited a laugh from the audience, and he carried on, “it has allowed me to experience the widest and wisest parts of this wonderful community, I've conquered some of my fears, and it has allowed me to reconnect with the only blood family member I have,” he looked to Dudley who proudly smiled back at him from the audience with his arm around Daisy, “so I look forwards to spending many more years in this department; working with my fantastic partner, Zoe Santana, and my dear, dear friend Ron Weasley; and working with the community that has continually welcomed me since I was a boy,” he put his cue cards back in his jacket pocket and held the medal up so the papers could get a photo or two. Applause filled the Ministry’s atrium, and Harry stepped down from the stage, glad that the whole thing was over; though he had to admit that Zoe's coaching had been working wonders. 

Ron took him by the shoulder, “mate, did you really write that?” He smiled, “I didn't know you knew so many words!” 

“I have to admit, Zoe helped me with a fair bit of it,” he nodded towards her as she brought drinks over, “but the general sentiment is mine,” he laughed. 

Ron smiled and took a drink from Zoe, “So how do you like working with Harry?” He asked her, hoping to himself that one day he would be reunited in the field with his best friend, “Are you sick of him yet?” 

Zoe shook her head, “All the praise from Robards was worth it,” she laughed, “he’s actually a really good auror,” as she spoke, the chairs disappeared from the atrium, and music started playing. They stood almost hidden, shielded somewhat by the side of the stage away from the prying eyes of the media.

Harry slapped her shoulder, “Hey! Why do you sound so surprised?” he laughed with the group, until a sharp blonde glint caught his eye. Malfoy. Why? It had been months since they spoke. 

Ron must have sensed his sudden unease, and followed Harry’s gaze. He sighed, put his drink down, and strode off before Harry could say anything. Harry watched the confrontation between Ron and Malfoy and held his breath, hoping that there would be no fighting tonight. 

Hermione and Santana took Harry by the hands and led him to the dancefloor, where he tried his hardest to not embarrass himself (and his friends) with his terrible dancing. It took a few moments, but Harry was able to distract himself from the fact that Malfoy and Ron were having some form of discussion, and he began to enjoy himself despite the fact that the reporters from the Prophet were taking photos. 

Ron joined them on the dancefloor, and swept Hermione up in his arms so Harry was left to dance with Santana. They danced for a brief moment, but were soon interrupted by none other than Dudley, Daisy, and Mel. 

“Auror Potter,” Mel smiled, “it’s an honour to meet you,” she extended her hand and Harry shook it with a smile. 

“Please, you're family… Call me Harry,” Daisy looked up at him with big round eyes, a smile on her face, and a chocolate frog card in her hand. Harry spotted it and smirked, “shall we find a table?” 

He led them toward a secluded table and they all took a seat, it was the first time Harry had met Mel and Daisy, and he really wanted to get to know them properly. 

Dudley looked at Harry, the proud grin still plastered on his face, and clapped him on the shoulder, “I'm so happy that you're well again, Harry,” he said, in his slow way of speaking, “I, erm, I'm proud of everything that you've accomplished, and I’m so grateful that you allowed me into your life after everything,” his lip quivered slightly, “I'd love to introduce you to Daisy, my daughter,” 

Harry nodded at Dudley, the only acknowledgement he could give before Daisy thrust the chocolate frog card onto the table, “could you sign this Mr Potter, please?” She had such an innocent, optimistic smile. 

“Please, call me Harry,” he looked toward Dudley, “I'm basically your uncle after all,” he pulled his wand from his holster and with a flourish his signature scribbled itself across the card. 

“That means more than you know, Harry,” Dudley said, “I know I've mentioned this to you before but everything I'm doing, adopting Daisy, plunging myself into the wizarding world; I'm doing it to atone,” 

Harry nodded, “I know, and I'm so impressed and proud of you,” he smiled, “I know you obviously love him, but you're nothing like your dad, you've become a good man,” 

Dudley nodded, but Daisy spoke up, “Harry, can we dance?” 

Harry laughed, “if that's what you wish, that's what you shall have,” he held his hand out and she led the way to the dance floor, Dudley and Mel in tow. No doubt that the press would have a field day at the Saviour dancing with his niece, but he enjoyed it more so because he thought that he'd never have a family. He intended to play the doting uncle for as long as he could. 

It was the end of the night, and Harry was standing, waiting for Santana to get over to him so he could leave but every time she got closer, she would get hounded by people. He was growing impatient. Dudley and his family had left long before now, as Daisy had become tired. 

“Excuse me?” He heard a voice. His voice. 

Sure enough, he turned around and there was Malfoy in his finest dress robes with a glass of wine in his hand. 

Not wanting to create a scene, Harry tried the civil approach, “can I help?” Well, maybe not that civil. 

Draco took a sharp breath in, clearly he hadn't expected Harry to be so angry still, “I was hoping that we could go for a drink. I'd really like an opportunity to talk to you after… well. After everything.” He fiddled with the ring on his right hand, clearly nervous. Harry recognised the ring finally - the one from his dream all those months ago. Of course. Of fucking course. 

Harry sighed and looked toward Santana, who was currently having a shouting match with a reporter. Shit. He turned to Malfoy, “I'll be right back, I promise.” 

He ran over to Santana and grabbed her by the arm dragging her away from the situation. She whispered her thanks and nodded toward Malfoy, “I'm guessing you want to be left alone?” 

Harry smiled briefly, “yeah, we're going to go out for a drink… talk things through,” he looked toward Malfoy who really did look anxious, “please don't get in any more shouting matches with reporters, they're really bad at twisting words,” he said sarcastically, “I'll see you at work, yeah?” 

Zoe smiled and nodded, and then walked off, shooting a death glare at the reporter from earlier, and slinking out the door before he could catch up to her. 

Harry joined Malfoy once more, and held his hand toward the door, gesturing for them to leave. 

***

They sat, uneasy, in the pub. Harry adjusted his tie, his nerves going ten to the dozen. There was something about Malfoy that made him hot under the collar. To say he was nervous was an understatement, and no matter how much he tried to remember his Auror training, he couldn't get himself under control. Something that made Harry happy, however, was that Malfoy looked just as nervous. Harry stared into his drink, both drained from the evening and wanting this conversation to be over. 

“I, erm,” Draco hesitated, “how have you been?” 

Harry sighed and wondered if the entire encounter would be this awkward, “Busy… work and stuff. My shoulder is still not quite fully healed, but it's not getting in the way at work anymore.” He didn't ask how Malfoy had been, not that he didn't care, but that he couldn't bear it if he was happier without Harry in his life. 

“Shall I just get to the point?” Malfoy asked, looking like he was trying to muster some courage. 

Harry nodded, “please do,” he gulped down some of his beer, steeling himself for Malfoys reasoning. Some of his nerves were abated as he finally managed to calm himself down somewhat. 

Malfoy took a deep breath, “I thought you deserved to know that I was wrong. These past couple of months I’ve been - I can't get you off my mind,” he finally brought his eyes up to meet Harry's, “I'm completely head over heels for you, and I'm wholeheartedly sorry that I abandoned you when you probably needed me most. How I treated you was heartless, and after so long of trying to prove to the world that I'm a better person, I was awful to you - the person who changed my life for the better.” He nodded his head slightly, as if to signal that he had finished and pursed his lips, expectant of Harry's reply. 

It was Harry's turn to take a deep breath, “well…” he cleared his throat, “that’s not quite what I was expecting you to say,” he thought for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts and his feelings, “thank you for apologising. I'm not saying this to make you feel bad, that's the last thing I want, but I agree. You were abominable to me; and yes, while I was injured I really didn't need to be dealing with heartbreak too,” Malfoys face was a mask of guilt, tears pricked his eyes and he bit his lip, “but… you couldn't have known that I was going to catch feelings for you, none of us - apart from the person who hit me - knew that I was going to be that ill. I still don't think you're a bad person Malfoy, I don't think anybody could convince me that you are. I do have a question for you though; why did you never visit me?” 

There was a silence that descended upon them. They both took a quiet sip of their drinks and Harry took off his tie; sick of the way it constricted him in the warm pub. 

“I tried, you know, at the hospital,” Draco spoke quietly, his voice barely audible above the sounds of the pub, “I kicked up one hell of a fuss. Practically shouted St Mungos down,” he sipped his drink and took a deep breath, “I think I really stressed the gryffindor posse even more than they already were and they said that I couldn’t be around if I was going to be like that. I can’t say I blame them really, I was being an arse. I even tried to make an excuse that Robards wanted me to see you but they refused that too,” he laughed, “smart people you surround yourself with, Potty. Then when you went home to Grimmauld I couldn’t bring myself to just turn up, I was holed up in Lancashire and I wanted to get the case solved as soon as I could so that when you came back to work it would be a fresh start,” His eyes lifted from his drink and met Harry’s, “of course I didn’t realise at the time that your fresh start would include a new partner and what was basically a promotion…” he sighed, “I was worried sick. I hope you don’t think that I didn’t come because I didn’t want to. I wanted to. I forwarded the letters that came into work for you, cards and well wishes and the like. It was my way of trying to help I guess.” he ended with a shrug. 

Harry stayed quiet. Truth be told he thought that Draco simply hadn’t wanted to see him for so long. He hadn’t realised that his friends had been trying so hard to keep him stress-free. He couldn’t begrudge them their efforts, they’d really been looking after him while he was recovering. He knew, looking back, that if Draco had shown up, there would have been an argument, Harry would have been in more pain, and his recovery would have been slowed down. 

Silence descended once more. It was almost comfortable; now that they had cleared the air they could move on. 

“Did you ever find out who hit you?” Draco asked, his eyes drifting toward Harry's shoulder. 

“Ah. Yeah. I take it you didn't find out?” 

Draco shook his head, “haven't heard a thing,” he took a sip of his drink. 

“It was Auror Franklin,” he sighed, and Malfoys mouth dropped in shock, “turns out he was a bit of a prick,” Harry smiled and set his beer glass down. 

Malfoy sat in a shocked silence, turning things over in his mind. He knew that Franklin had given him creepy vibes, but he hadn’t expected him to try and kill Harry. Though he did seem very interested in him. From what Draco knew Harry had been through hell while recovering. He grimaced at the thought; in some way it was his fault for associating with Franklin. 

“I take it things with Alex didn't work?” Harry fiddled with his tie as it lay on the table, running the silk between his fingers as he spoke. 

Malfoys jaw dropped yet again, “how did you…?” He sighed, “it was just a one off anger fuck… maybe a few time anger fuck,” he explained, “I needed to get it out of me somehow; it shot me in the foot eventually, but I tried to leave it on good terms.” 

A wry smile crept onto Harry's face, “was he any good?” 

Malfoy snorted, “please… the sex served its purpose but that's all.” 

Harry scoffed, and eventually chuckled. He forgot how easy even the hardest things could be with Malfoy. They shared a knowing glance between them, and Harry knew that Draco felt the same.

Malfoy reached across the table and took Harry's hand gently, “can we try again?” His voice was small, gentle, and vulnerable. He was almost pleading and Harry knew how he felt. 

He nodded, “owl me a time and day and we’ll go on a proper date,” he squeezed Malfoy's hand before letting go and draining his beer, “for now though, can I walk you home?” 


	24. Date Night 2.0

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well... the boys finally get their date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evening all! If you're wondering I've had a wonderful day and I hope you have too - the gods know we deserve it at the moment.  
> I regret to inform you that the next chapter will be the last, so savour this one <3

A note sat on Harry's desk, a few days after their reconciliation, signed neatly by Draco. Their first date. He had requested Harry's company at a mid league quidditch match, something that intrigued Harry. He had imagined that Draco would drag him along to an art gallery, or an opera, maybe even a regular play if it was classy enough. Lower level quidditch was notoriously brash, unregulated, and tough: not something he associated with Malfoy. 

When Harry met Draco outside Grimmauld Place, he was nervous. He'd not really ever been on a date before, and he wasn't sure what to expect; his mind raced, should he be himself? Or should he be more on guard after everything that had happened? His shoulder twinged as he worried, drawing his mind from his anxiety. Draco looked relaxed, his hair artfully tousled, and his coat collar turned up. He held a newspaper, undoubtedly full of odds for the match that they were going to see, and it made Harry wonder whether he should have placed a bet or two. 

The only quidditch pitches that Harry had been to were the Hogwarts pitch, and the World Cup. Though the World Cup had been tinged with death eatery madness in his memory. He didn't know what to expect of a smaller league pitch, would it be as well kept? Is it smaller in size? He was excited to find out, and slowly his nerves turned to rippling anticipation and he found himself relaxing. 

As they walked to the stands Harry felt Draco's hand bump up against his a few times. With a fond smile, and quite a few nerves, he bit the bullet and grasped Draco's hand in his own. A small gasp escaped Malfoys lips, and Harry found himself looking - he knew what those lips could do, what they tasted like, what reaction they could provoke - and yet right now the smile that emerged was beautifully naive and sweet. A flush crept up onto his cheeks so Harry squeezed his hand, just to see the blush grow even more. 

The stands were bustling with people, all shouting and making noise. It hurt Harry's ears at first, but he found himself adjusting to it pretty quickly. Draco was thriving, the energy around him was tangible and infectious; Harry took moments here and there to marvel in his passion for the match, the exaggerated way that he contested the referee on penalties, and the closeness that he watched the players with. He gave Harry advice on which bets to place, having seen both the teams play before. Some of the players were incredibly talented, Harry couldn't take his eyes off one of them; a young woman, Dabrowski, who executed the most graceful of tactics with a kind of raw untrained power. When the referee pulled her up for something, Harry began shouting at him. In his eyes she hadn't done anything, and so he cupped his face as he began to spew his objections at the ref. It didn't help that he had a bet placed on her scoring three goals before the three hour mark hit. 

Draco watched Harry as his arms flailed in a mad protest of the referee, and realised that he was head over heels with Harry. It was the way he felt things so passionately, even about people he was totally unfamiliar with, and how he was completely unable to hide it. Harry's emotions rule him, but he always paid attention to his rational thoughts (when he had them) and by merlin he could rule the world if he set his mind to it; yet he was happy to just carry on with his job in the Aurors department, helping people like he always had done. He cast his eyes down to Harry's body, and couldn't help the thoughts that came forward. Images of Harry spread eagled across Draco's bed clouded his mind, and he couldn't, or rather, didn't want to think of anything else. It was in this moment that he realised he'd never been attracted to anyone else, truly, as much as he was to Harry Potter; it could overwhelm him, the sight of Harry in any state of undress. He very much believed that a naked Potter could ask him to do anything and he would oblige for just a taste. To say that he was completely beholden to his worship of Potters body was an understatement, even now, at this small local quidditch match, his mouth was watering and his groin was beginning to react. His mind instantly went to their possible list of post-date activities and he had to refrain from calling the date short then and there to take it to his bedroom. He wondered if it would always be like this: if he would always get distracted by the sheer beauty that radiated from him, whether he was still mussed from sleeping, or in his finest attire. He wanted to find out. He wanted to see Harry grow old and experience every iteration of him possible. His breath caught as he realised he was getting in over his head, but he loved every second. 

He was well aware that he was staring, but to hell with it, it was totally worth it. 

“Everything okay?” Harry smiled, as he caught Draco looking at him. 

“Perfect,” Draco put his arm around Harry's waist and carried on watching the match. He wasn't quite sure what was going on now, his musings over Harry had overtaken any interest he had in the game. 

Draco walked Harry back to Grimmauld Place, both sharing a packet of sweets and laughing together. Harry had won a significant amount of money, nearly every single one of his bets had placed and he was equal parts surprised and excited. It had been a thrill for him, beyond anything else, to experience this small segment of Draco's life. He wondered if Draco had enjoyed himself as much as he had, and if they were going to have regular dates to wild and unpredictable quidditch matches. He could see it being a fixture of his life with Draco. 

One look at Draco and his flushed cheeks as he recounted a particularly riveting part of the match, and Harry knew that Draco was just as electrified as Harry by their day together.

“Well… Draco,” Harry sighed, “I have to say, that was probably one of the best first dates I've ever been on,” 

Draco raised an eyebrow, “Only one of? Good lord Potty, I’m going to have to do better than that,” He spoke with a smile and a mock sense of outrage. Harry had learned all the nuances of Dracos tone, and even now it had the power to drive him mental. 

Harry smiled, “You know what I mean,” He glanced at the door, “Do you… er, do you want a pot of tea?” 

Malfoy followed his gaze, “Are you nervous, Potter?” 

Suddenly Harry felt everything for Malfoy at once, from their childhood taunts, to their more recent trading of wits; it made him chuckle. He realised that not once has he been scared of Malfoy… but nervous? Nervous was a different emotion entirely. The haughty looks, the pale grey eyes, the competitions, the rivalry, the idea that their lives were destined to be opposites of each other. That made him nervous, the notion that they had been flirting around something bigger all of their lives. 

He took a breath, “Always. You make me nervous in ways that I don’t think anyone else ever has done before,” 

Draco chuckled, and moved closer to Harry. He let himself pull Harry close and graze his neck with his lips, “I must be formidable indeed,” he kissed his neck slowly and felt Harry wind his arms around Draco's waist, “To make _you_ nervous…” 

With a groan, Harry unlocked the wards over the door, certain of where the date would end. He loved it when Draco took control.


	25. Post Script

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years after their official first date, what are Draco and Harry up to?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Afternoon! The final chapter is upon us :( I really appreciate all of your support and feedback throughout this fic, it has been wonderful and y'all are amazing <3 
> 
> As I've mentioned before, I do have another fic underway so I'm sure that'll be up eventually! 
> 
> Stay safe and sane peeps <3

**Two years later.**

The kettle whistled in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, the wireless was playing, and Harry woke up with a start. He grumbled as he realised that it was the morning, and cursed working late the night before. He rolled over in bed, to find that Draco had left. 

He made his way down to the kitchen, barefoot, to find Draco and Lilly making breakfast. Lilly sat on the large table in the centre of the room, ironing Harry's work shirt while simultaneously squeezing orange juice. A note was pasted to the fridge, reminding them both of Teddys upcoming visit, with the postscript of Harry's promise to take him to a quidditch match. Harry drank in the sight of domestic bliss, before realising the time and breaking out into a rush. Kreacher shuffled into the kitchen at Grimmauld, now living a slower life thanks to Lilly joining them. He still enjoyed doing some things around the house, but mostly spent his days reading or plodding around the garden. 

“Sorry I didn't wake you,” Draco smiled, “I knew that you'd be tired after your shift last night. What time did you get in?” 

Harry wound his arms around Draco's waist, once more not caring that he'd be late to the DMLE. Malfoy smelled so good after his morning shower, and he was toasty warm, “I think I fell into bed at about 4am,” he checked his watch, “so I've had 4 hours sleep.” 

Draco kissed Harry's forehead, “the department won't run itself, and if you insist on working yourself to an early grave then at least make that assistant of yours do some work too,” he chuckled as he spoke, knowing that Harry would never delegate work that he could do on his own. He wasn't joking about Harry working himself into an early grave however, since they had moved in together and Harry had his promotion, his work hours had almost doubled. 

Harry smiled in response, knowing that Malfoy was only half teasing, “when do you finish work today?” Harry spoke against his neck, still enjoying Malfoys warmth. 

“Whenever I damn well want to,” Draco smiled, and broke their embrace to check on the bacon. Harry watched as he delicately placed the perfect rashers onto Harry's plate, alongside the rest of his full English. 

“I'm going to get fat if I keep on eating like this,” he joked, but tucked in all the same.

“We both know that's not true, Harry Potter,” Draco teased and sat next to him, waiting for Lilly and Kreacher to pick up their own breakfast before spelling the pans clean with a quick wandless charm, “you and your Aurors are incredibly fit.” 

The office was a bustling hive of activity as always, when Harry walked in. The night shift had clearly been busy in the last four hours, and no doubt Harry would have a mountain of paperwork to get through. Ron was already sitting at his desk outside Harry's office, enjoying his role as Harry's personal assistant, which had been Harry’s first request upon his promotion. Hermione had been happy that her husband had been pulled out of harm's way for a more administrative role especially now they had a toddler to look after. Harry had been happy to have someone by his side that he completely trusted to have his back, no matter what the situation.

“Morning mate,” Ron grumbled, sorting through paperwork, “last night was a particularly busy shift after you  _ eventually _ left. Santana will be coming in in around an hour to debrief you,” he handed Harry a cup of coffee and yet another case file. Santana was the deputy head Auror, and mostly covered the night shift so Harry could  _ try  _ and get some sleep. 

His office was… a mess. Several memos had landed on his chair, case files and reports were overflowing on his desk and there were already several meetings scheduled for the day. He sighed. How all of this had accumulated in just over five hours baffled him. The Head Auror job had basically always been his, since he entered the DMLE, as had been made obvious by the Ministry’s pushing of him toward it. Though, he did enjoy making changes within the department. 

His first was to update the research Aurors and their labs: he wanted to bring the DMLE into the twenty-first century. They now had a dedicated research department, a group of hard working Aurors to run names, look into dark artefacts, finegle the unknown laws into clarity, and to find answers to the awkward theory questions that no one learned in Hogwarts. So far, they were doing astoundingly. They also had a lab to work with now, wizards and witches who specialised in diagnostic spells, potion and wand analysis, and most importantly silly questions from Aurors. Since he had made these changes, the department ran much more smoothly, and cases were being solved at a record rate. 

Draco had also taken a career change since moving into Grimmauld Place, using his wiles and intellect to take over the crime reporting at the  _ Prophet,  _ their misinformation and outright lies had always created problems in the wizarding community, and so he had decided to take over. He had muscled in on the paper, essentially demanding that as an Auror he should take over the crime news, not a snotty nosed reporter who only thought about the best scoops. 

His career change had had an unexpected impact: general hysteria over maldoings had dropped. Drastically. With no sensationalist headlines about ‘Death Eaters Return’ and ‘is the Dark Lord really dead?’ public morale was higher. The tone had switched from negative to positive, and Draco chose to focus on the work that the Aurors were doing, around the clock, to keep the world safe. It had all been going swimmingly. It also came with the added bonus of working whenever the hell Draco liked, so short working hours for him were the norm. 

Their lives had wonderfully intermingled into something hectic, wonderful, and domestic. Their state of bliss had led Harry to do something crazy. Ron had been fully apprised of his plan, and actively encouraged it, despite previous misgivings.

Harry, with a shaking hand, sent Draco a memo to meet him in the DMLE, and began to get his plan in action. 

He waited, nervous, until the moment that the door would open. 

***

Draco was in the office, looking through his columns for the day almost satisfied, when a hastily written memo from Harry arrived on his desk. It was on DMLE paper, so it must be an official summons as part of his job. He sighed, but shrugged on his cloak nonetheless, wondering what had happened now. 

He strode over to Harry's office, only to be told by Ron that Harry was in an office down the hall. He raised his eyebrow, but thought nothing of it, until he found the office in question. The one they had shared together. 

Harry looked nervous, pacing and biting his lip. Draco's instant thought was that something bad had happened, knowing the nature of his job, and so he rushed into the room. 

Harry looked at his with wide eyes, and an even wider smile. 

“What are you doing here?” Draco asked, looking around the tiny office which had changed hands several times but managed to maintain its general atmosphere, “did you just take over someone's office?” 

Harry smiled, “well… I am head auror,” he looked towards Draco's old desk and let the memories wash over him. 

A silence descended and Draco turned to look out the window overlooking the bullpen, so much had changed since he was an Auror, but watching the chaos he was happy he had left. 

Harry took his chance, and while Malfoy wasn't looking, dropped to one knee. He held the ring box out and took a deep breath. 

“Draco…” 

Malfoy turned to look at Harry. Surprise washed over him, mixed with relief that nothing was wrong and was in fact going very very right. 

“You're my world. It seemed only right to me that I would do this here, where everything started and developed. Where you showed me more about myself than I ever thought possible, and where we spent many boring hours in each other company before we realised what had been sitting in front of us for so long,” he glanced at the box in his hand, “Draco Lucius Malfoy, will you marry me?” 

Draco was transfixed, hypnotised by the moment, which he wanted to last forever. He must have waited longer than he should have because Harry's face fell a little. 

Responding in the only way he knew how, he pulled Harry up and kissed him with all of his might, “of course I will, you complete and utter madman,” 

Harry let out his breath, and nuzzled into Draco's neck, “I thought you might say no,” he chuckled. 

Draco pulled away, and rolled his eyes, “shut up, Potter,”

***

Fin <3 


End file.
